


Transatlanticism

by Asimpledotdotdot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, College, F/M, Fluff, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Pre-Series, Slow Build, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4488000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asimpledotdotdot/pseuds/Asimpledotdotdot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finally understands. He finally understands what that longing expanding between his ribs means. Why the very thought of leaving the only person he's ever known--ever loved--is the most terrifying thing.</p><p>He finally knows what's been clawing desperately at his insides, wanting--no, <em>needing</em>--to get out.</p><p>The revelation is the very definition of wrong place, wrong time.</p><p>The hardest part is knowing it's the right person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into the Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's funny how an envelope can hold Sam's entire future.

_♫_

_It's seven am_

_and the letters I send_

_won't follow you home._

_♫_

* * *

 

Sam woke up early that morning. The window was cracked, allowing a soft breeze to drift past the stiff curtains and through the stale room. It was crisp and fresh and smelled of spring.

He shivered slightly when he sat up, brushing his hair out of his face as he looked to the window. Droplets of water collected over the sill, reflecting the rising sun in little bursts of colour.

Sam crept out of bed, glancing over at his brother snoring softly in the other bed. Sam let out a quiet sigh. Dean looked so peaceful, so relaxed. He didn't know when he'd be able to see Dean like that again.

He dedicated the image to memory, filing it away next to all the little snapshots of Dean smiling and laughing. Occurrences all too rare to let slip away. They were little treasures Sam held onto when things got bad. When Dean was away with their father on a hunt and Sam wasn't sure he'd be coming back. When Dean was out past the early hours before dawn with some girl. When Sam lay awake at night, crushing hope weighing his chest down like a ton of bricks. A yearning so strong it left him empty inside. A yearning he didn't understand.

Those nights were when he'd pull up a memory or an image of Dean smiling that special smile. The one that reached his eyes. The one that made Sam feel all fluttery inside. The one that he reserved only for Sam. He'd desperately cling to that mental image, let it wrap warm arms around him until the ache in his chest wasn't so strong. Until the growing pit in his stomach wasn't threatening to swallow him whole.

Sam stood there for another moment before turning away. A sharp tug in his chest reminded him what today was. And then the pain in his chest simply grew. He felt as though his heart was sinking, anchored by secrets and confessions he'd never be able to voice. Because once he did, they weren't merely thoughts anymore. They were out there, tangible and full of possibilities. And none of those possibilities were reassuring.

He walked to the window, glancing out over the stretch of concrete that passed for a patio in this sad excuse for a house. They'd stayed in this one for quite some time and it had grown on Sam. Though they'd be out of it within the next couple months once Sam graduated.

Another sharp tug to his chest, but this one brought about anticipation and a touch of excitement instead of longing.

He quietly got dressed, tugging on his jeans and hoodie before lacing up his shoes. He grabbed his wallet and the key to their P.O. Box. He chanced one last glance at Dean before cracking open the door and slipping out.

Sam felt a smile tug at his lips as the fresh morning air filtered through his nose, letting it cleanse him and rid him of any anxiety. It was a little too cold for his liking, but the biting chill calmed his nerves.

He'd already received a likely letter--which had been terribly difficult to hide from Dean and his father. Now he was waiting for his official acceptance letter. Or rejection.

He carried on, pocketing his hands in an attempt to keep them warm. The post office was only a few blocks away and the morning breeze was doing wonders to clear his mind.

As he stepped onto the curb he wondered whether the letter had even come. He knew a friend at school had just recently received his rejection letter. Which meant there should be an envelope waiting in the mail box--usually barren save for a credit card offer or two.

The cold steel of the door handle brought Sam out of his thoughts, stepping into the heated room, a round office clerk and an elderly woman the only other signs of life in the early hour.

He found the alcove containing their box, finding the numbers and pulling out the key. He took a deep breath before inserting it, slowly turning it until it clicked open.

And there it was. A single envelope.

He took it out, an official printing of Stanford University in the corner.

He carefully opened it, pulling out the neatly folded letter. He closed his eyes, took three steady breaths before unfolding it, quickly glancing over the official _Stanford University_ written beneath the tree stamp.

>   
>  March 2001
> 
> Dear Sam:
> 
> I take great pleasure in offering you admission to Stanford University's class of 2005. Congratulations!  
> 

Sam felt his lungs struggling to contain the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. He let it out with relief, excitement rushing through his body at the initial acceptance.

It was all so much and Sam felt dizzy. He steadied himself with a hand against the cool metal lockers.

After the initial shock to his system he calmed down, through the envelope. There was a small card he was supposed to send back before May. As well as financial aid information.

Sam would apply, but he had enough saved in scholarships from various organizations as well as his own small fund. He couldn't believe this was really happening. He glanced down into the envelope.

There was another card inviting him to a weekend program at the school. He wouldn't be able to make that--it would be too tricky to sneak past his father. And Dean.

And then the reality of it all hit him.

The calm setting over him wasn't settling fast enough to combat the rising panic closing up his throat.

He swallowed hard, focusing on the cold metal of the mail box beneath his hand.

It wasn't as though he hadn't thought about how he was actually going to tell Dean and their father. He had thought long and hard about it. Keeping it from Dean had caused a monstrous guilt to start eating away at him, a guilt so strong it kept him up at night.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and forced himself to just breathe. The thought of leaving Dean always threatened to tear him to pieces.

He leaned his head agains the cool metal, forcing himself to get his breathing under control.

"Hey kid." A rough voice brought him back a few minutes later. "Kid, you okay?"

Sam turned to find the short, round post office man looking at him in concern.

"You look like me when I found out how much alimony was." He gave a slight chuckle, soft Yankee accent making him friendly enough.

Sam managed a slight smile at the man's words. He stood up and took a deep breath, holding up the envelope. "College acceptance letter."

The man grinned. "Congrats kid. Ain't that somethin' to be celebratin'? Not cryin' over?" He asked, still concerned.

Sam noticed the drying tears on his cheek which he furiously wiped away. How long had he been standing there? "It's uh... Complicated." He steadied his breathing, putting the letter back into the envelope slowly. "Don't think my family would join in on the celebrations." He admitted quietly.

The man cocked an eyebrow, looking over Sam in slight confusion. He had this air about him though, welcoming and kind. "Ain't it supposed to be the other way 'round?"

Sam locked up the box, fingers carding through his hair. He gave a little shrug. "Not with my dad. We have different views on my future."

"Ah." A pause. "Well he's bound to come around eventually."

Sam couldn't bite back the dry chuckle that fell from his lips. "You don't know him."

The man nodded in agreement but gave a small shrug. "You're right, I don't. But I know you're his son. That's gotta count as something for your old man. One thing I know--family sticks together." He stated simply.

Sam chewed his lip and gave the slightest bit of a nod. He was more worried about Dean never speaking to him than his father disowning him. "I guess."

The man gave him a nod, not wanting to push anything more. "Now get outta here and go celebrate. You deserve it, kid."

Sam felt a little more relaxed as he met the man's eyes with a small smile before tucking the letter under his jacket and making his way out, adding a quiet "Thanks," as he left.

* * *

Sam took the long way back. He thought about the man's words as his tennis shoes squelched along the wet pavement.

_Family sticks together._

And here Sam was about to leave that family and start his own life, free from hunting and following orders. He finally had a chance at normal, finally had a chance to do what he wanted. Not what was wanted of him.

While it was incredibly liberating for Sam, he knew Dean wouldn't see it like that. Sam hoped desperately he'd find a way to make Dean understand, but he knew in the end it would be useless.

He had to face it; he was going to be leaving for college. And sooner or later he'd have to tell Dean. Have to convince Dean. Have to leave Dean.

Sam wanted to puke.


	2. Little Lion Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The letter sends Sam riding a tidal wave of emotions he can't quite comprehend. He only hopes they don't get the best of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to change a few things in the last chapter to try and follow as much of the canon verse as I could.
> 
> Much thanks to Shannon and Gabby for all the love and support.

_♫_

_It's too late to go._

_♫_

* * *

Sam fidgeted with his sleeves the whole way back, fingers icy as the temperature seemed to drop. His gut was wrenching and he had to stop twice to keep himself from throwing up.

His body was a whirlpool of emotions and he wished he could be like Dean for once and just push it all away. But they were threatening to suck the very air from his lungs.

He stopped outside the house, leaning against the cool side, forcing himself to calm down. If Dean was awake, Sam couldn't show any signs of distress. Dean knew him too well. The slightest hint that something was wrong and Dean would be on his case, asking who's ass he needed to kick. And while it was endearing and always made Sam feel better, this was something Dean couldn't fix. This was Sam's problem. His choice.

Sam was growing up. Moving out. _Leaving_. Just that word made his heart clench. But Sam needed to figure this out on his own. Make this decision on his own.

But he knew the longer he stayed with their father the more suffocated he'd become. And he feared one of these days he wouldn't be able to take it anymore.

He took a deep breath, spending a few minutes focusing on the cool air stinging his throat and his exposed skin. It felt almost calming. He opened the door and ran right into Dean's chest, arms automatically wrapping around Sam to steady him.

"Jesus Sam." He breathed sounding almost relieved. "The fuck you doing out at this hour?" That was Dean's big brother tone, a trace of concern underlining his words. "I was just about to go look for you."

Sam felt a little bit of relief dampen the tidal wave of emotional washing over him. He swallowed hard, relaxing marginally under Dean's touch. But he forced himself to step away. "What, I c-can't go out anym-more?" He retorted instead of just keeping quiet. 

Dean scoffed, closing the door behind them. "Not when it's dropping below 50 out there. It's gotta be in the low 40's."

Sam furrowed his brow. Had it really been that cold? "S'not that b-bad."

He tried to take another step but his legs didn't seem to want to move. And then warm hands were on him.

"Christ Sammy, you're freezing." Dean said as he cupped Sam's cheek, taking both in hand. That's when Sam realized he was shivering and stuttering. He didn't need this right now. He couldn't deal with this on top of everything else.

"M'fine," he murmured, lips numb.

And then he was trapped between Dean's strong arms and his warm chest. He felt so guilty about everything. He didn't deserve dean's affections. But he let himself relax against Dean even though he knew Dean would push him away and let him freeze if only he knew.

"Shh, let's get you warmed up, okay?" His tone was softer but still firm. Still laced with worry. Sam hated himself for allowing this. For letting Dean take care of him. How was he supposed to face Dean when he knew he'd be leaving? How was he supposed to lie and pretend everything was fine? It was all going to fall apart. He just knew this wasn't going to end well.

The only thought in his head was _if only he knew. If only he knew that come fall I won't be here. I won't be hunting at his side. If only he knew I'll be leaving him._

Sam shivered, wanting to pull away from Dean. But he knew the drill. Dean practically carried him to the bed, taking his hands in his and rubbing them, friction creating sparks of warmth. Dean pulled Sam against him, wrapping himself around his little brother, tugging the sheets up.

Sam thought it was a little bit of overkill, but he wasn't pulling away. He was starting to relax, Dean's heartbeat against his ear miraculously quieting the storm inside. It always calmed Sam.

When they were younger Dean would do this all the time. When Sam would have a nightmare and couldn't sleep, Dean would let him curl up against his chest, press Sam's head to his heart, securing Sam in his arms, and let his heartbeat calm his little brother. It always worked. No matter how scared or sad or panicked Sam was, hearing the steady thump of his brother's heart reassured him that he was okay. That Dean was there for him. Dean was protecting him and it felt as though he'd never let go.

It had the same effect now even though it had been years since they'd been like this. Sam was almost eighteen, too old to be coddled by his brother. But he savored it, locked this memory away with all those ones of Dean smiling. Of them laughing. Moments like these where everything was right in the world. Where they could forget about all the other shit. If only for a few minutes.

His head hurt almost like a brain freeze, his body shuddering as it tried to warm up, teeth slightly chattering.

At least Dean wasn't asking what Sam was doing out. Though he knew he'd have to answer that. Have to lie.

"Any better?" Dean asked as he rubbed his hand over Sam's back. The touch was soothing and warming and had Sam wanting to purr like some cat.

"Hmmhm," he hummed in response, not really giving much of an answer. He just curled closer, body slowly giving in to the warmth surrounding it.

As time started to pass, his teeth stopped chattering and he relaxed, the tremors in his body slowing to a stop. He didn't want to let go of Dean though. What if this was the last time Dean held him like this? What if he never got to feel the safety of Dean's arms wrapped around him?

He felt Dean start to pull back just a bit and Sam instinctively tightened his grip on Dean's shirt. Dean settled back in, glancing down at Sam. "You okay kiddo?"

Sam huffed, pursing his lips as he kept his face buried against Dean's chest. It kept all the tumultuous thoughts at bay. It was the perfect cure. "M'not a kid."

Sam just knew Dean was rolling his eyes. "You are for another month and a half."

Sam just curled closer. He didn't want to be reminded. He wanted his freedom, yes. More than anything. But right now he didn't want to face that. He felt foolish and childish for thinking like that, but he couldn't help it. "Shut up," he finally mumbled.

"Geez," Dean scoffed, looking down at Sam. "Someone sure had their bitchflakes this morning."

"Dean." He all but pleaded, voice too quiet and quivering too much. Sam wished more than anything that somehow he could just disappear into Dean, meld together so he'd never have to leave him. So he'd always be a part of him.

Dean bit his tongue, holding back his reply as he watched Sam curl up against him.

Sam relaxed when he felt Dean just holding him. Just keeping him safe like he did all Sam's life.

"S'okay Sammy." Dean whispered, stroking Sam's back absently. It made Sam feel ten times better. Made that worry fade away, that guilt disappear. "M'right here."

Dean was talking to Sam like he was twelve again. Sam felt like he was twelve again. He sure was acting like a child. But Dean seemed to know something wasn't right. Otherwise he wouldn't still be holding onto his brother.

With Dean miraculously curing Sam's emotional turmoil, Sam yawned. All that panicking and guilt and excitement had wore him out. And Dean's warmth wasn't helping to keep him awake.

Sam yawned again, muffling it against Dean's chest. "Get some rest kiddo." Dean murmured softly, hand still stroking over Sam's back. "You look like you could use it."

Sam gave a little hum, content with losing himself in this little world of happiness where nothing seems to go wrong. Because the moment he was back in the real world, everything would come crashing down.

 

"Dude get up."

Sam groaned, rubbing at his eyes before looking up at his brother who was currently trying to untangle them.

"Don' wanna," he mumbled. He didn't want to leave Dean's arms. But he didn't have an excuse to stay wrapped in them. To stay wrapped in a perfect world of pretend.

Dean managed to untangle their legs. "I'm hungry. It's almost noon. And you reek."

"Do not," Sam pouted. "Took a shower last night." He yawned, hiding his frown as Dean rolled away slightly. But not all the way, for which Sam was grateful.

Dean chewed his lip, lifting up his arm over their heads and taking a whiff before pulling back. "Okay correction. _I_ reek." Then he smirked. "Guess workouts in bed do that to you." He waggled his eyebrows.

Sam made a disgusted face. "You're gross."

"Not according to the ladies. There's nothing wrong with a little fun." Sam could tell Dean was halfheartedly trying to cheer him up. In Dean's own viscously annoying big brother way. "That's right. Your idea of fun is reading books and writing Algerians."

Sam frowned. "Algorithms."

"Whatever, nerd." Dean finally got out of bed, a little hesitant in his efforts. Sam didn't really notice how Dean's hand lingered in his hair after ruffling it. "Go read a book or something while I shower." He threw his words over his shoulder as he was leaving.

Leaving Sam to come back to earth. Back to the envelope still inside his jacket pocket.

He was thankful Dean was gone as he rolled out of bed, still a little stiff. Whether it was from being so cold or from the jagged edge of emotion slicing him inside, he didn't know.

He pulled out the envelope, turning it over in his hands before finding a safe place to hide it. Dean didn't usually go through his stuff unless he thought Sam stole one of his cassettes or something. Which Sam only did once just to mess with Dean. 

His fingers lingered over the envelope before tucking it away from prying eyes. Burying it deep down in hopes he wouldn't have to face it.

He sat at his desk, cracking open his notebook to finish some schoolwork. It helped to tide him over before Dean came back. But it didn't stop his mind from wandering.

Sam had a little over a month before he needed to reply to the letter.

Now the question was whether he would accept this gracious godsend or dismiss it.

Sam always had his eyes set on something better, something more than hunting. He had hopes for college, for a better education, for a better future. One that didn't include dingy motel rooms with suspicious stains. One that didn't include moving from one place to the next, causing him to have a stronger bond with the asphalt than any human being he met along the way. A future where he wasn't suffocated, breath unable to escape his mouth unless it carried a 'yessir.'

The decision should be easy. He should go to Stanford. He knew he should. Any longer here and he'd lose it. He knew he needed out.

He knew he had to leave. And do what _he_ wanted. What _he_ needed. It was _his_ life. Not his father's. 

He hated the thought of leaving Dean though. Dean was more than just his brother.

Sam never could figure that out, why Dean was so important to him. Why Sam felt at home whenever he was with Dean. Safe and secure.

But it was more than that. More than Dean being his big brother. More than Dean being his protector. There was just _more_ when it came to Dean.

Dean knew everything about Sam. Knew how to make him laugh or how to embarrass the shit out of him. He knew what would make Sam tick and what would calm him down. He knew how alone Sam felt in this kind of life. Because Dean was the only other person who had been living it with him.

But Dean was content with hunting. With following after their father. After every order.

Sam wasn't.

He had to go. There was no use in kidding himself that there might be another option. It was black and white--no room for gray. Either he left Dean and went to Stanford, or he left his dreams and went with Dean.

He was going to choose Stanford and he knew it.

But Sam was starting to wonder if it was worth the loss.

"You've been staring at that page for three minutes straight." Dean's voice brought Sam out of his thoughts, making him jerk back in surprise. 

"What the hell?" He exclaimed, shutting his notebook as if he had been caught.

"Who were you dreaming about Sammy?" Dean smirked as he ran a towel over his wet hair, another towel slung low on his hips.

Sam adverted his eyes, confused as to why they kept moving to the spot where Dean had the towel tucked in.

"She someone I know?" He continued to tease. 

"It was nothing Dean."

"Aww, Sammy's got a crush! You were totally doodling her name weren't you?" Dean leaned over, taking Sam's notebook before Sam could stop him. Dean gave a disappointed sigh as he found calculus formulas. "At this rate you're going to die a virgin. Which I will not allow."

Sam inwardly groaned. Not this again. Not right now.

"Dean just drop it. I was thinking over the problem. That's all."

Dean looked at him suspiciously and Sam held his breath. "Whatever loser. We're leaving in ten." Dean dropped the book down in front of Sam before sauntering over to his duffle.

Dean had never unpacked his clothes for all the months they had been there. He never really trusted any place they stayed, always ready to drop everything and go. It made Sam's chest hurt knowing Dean would never find that place where he could leave his clothes. Where he could settle down. And if Sam stayed with him, he'd never find that either.

He knew what he had to do. He'd fill out the rest of the forms and send them in the first chance he got.

Before he lost his nerve.

And before Dean could convince him otherwise.

* * *

Sam fit himself into the small little booth, growing legs awkwardly falling open as he sat down. He thought he caught Dean's eyes lingering on him before they moved onto the waitress's chest. He must have been mistaken. Dean couldn't have been giving Sam the same look he was giving the busty waitress. 

"Now how can I help you?" She asked Dean, giving all her attention to him. 

Dean's eyes slowly made their way up from her breasts to her eyes, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Well since you asked, I think you could really help me out by--"

"I don't think that's on the menu." Sam huffed, frustrated with the obvious eye fucking going on between them.

"It might be," the girl answered with a hint of a smirk. "We do have a few _specials_ of the day."

"And what might those be, sweetheart?" Dean all but purred, lips forming that panty-dropping smile. And Sam swore he saw the girl's knees wobble.

He sat back, wondering why the shameless flirting bothered him so much. Dean flirted with everyone. Whether he did so intentionally or not. That was just Dean. Sam knew that. But something about it still bothered him. It was more than just Dean getting on his nerves. There was some sort of greedy little pit in his stomach. If Sam didn't know any better, he'd call it jealousy. But Sam knew better. Knew Dean was his brother. And knew he had no interest in this girl, at least not the interest Dean was showing her. So the feeling just confused him.

"And what about you?"

Sam looked back up when Dean's boot met his shin, pulling him from his thoughts.

Dean sighed. "He'll get the garden burger. Multigrain instead of a bun. No pickles. Swiss instead of jack. Salad instead of fries. Dressing on the side." He paused, letting the waitress write down the order Dean knew by heart. Sam felt a smile tug at his lips. "That gonna be too much for ya?"

"Nothing's too much for me, sweetie." Sam's smile disappeared as she met dean's eyes with a coy smirk.

Sam cleared his throat. "Is your iced tea unsweetened?"

"Yup." She answered, eyes still locked on Dean's.

"I'll take one of those." Sam said, watching her scribble it down.

She swept a piece of dark hair out of her eyes before glancing back up at Dean. "Will that be all?"

"That's it for now. I'm sure I'll need a little something more later."

Sam thanked the gods that be when the waitress sashayed away, hips swinging like a pendulum side to side. And Dean was totally hypnotized.

"Really Dean?"

"Huh?" Dean only looked up once the girl was out of his line of sight. "You say something?"

Sam realized Dean would be fine without him. He was more interested in chasing girls and monsters, so he could live without teasing Sam constantly.

"Clearly doesn't matter." Sam played with the packets of sugar, twirling them between his fingers, feeling the little grains under the paper. "You working tonight?"

"Nah. But I think I'll be out." Dean grinned suggestively. "What about you? You got a study date?"

Sam just slumped in his seat, body unfolding at awkward angles. He was finally hitting his growth spurt. And it was long overdue.

"No. But I'm thinking of going to Jeremy's. He's having a hard time."

"Let me guess. Bad break up?" Dean rolled his eyes. "I'll say it again: relationships are overrated."

Sam mirrored his eye roll. Just because Dean couldn't handle commitment didn't mean it was overrated. "And he got a rejection letter."

Dean paused, furrowing his brows. "She break up with him in a letter?"

Sam realized what he had said and felt that pit of emptiness and guilt start to expand. Shit.

"It was a college rejection letter." Sam said slowly. Maybe he could approach the subject gently and just see what Dean's views were.

"Ah. Guess that's as bad as it gets for them." Dean said as he started working out of his jacket. The diner was a bit too warm.

"Them?"

"Yeah. Civilians. The worst thing to them is losing their job or getting rejected from college. They don't know what's really out there. They'll never see the shit we do."

Sam chewed his lip, looking down at the sugar packet in his hands. "I dunno Dean."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"It's just..." Sam could do this. Just approach the topic and feel it out. "Maybe that wouldn't be so bad?"

His brother looked confused and Sam could almost see the clouds approaching that hinted an angry storm in his eyes. "Not having to worry about the bogeyman would be great Sam, but I'm not really following."

Sam sighed, putting the packet down. "I mean wouldn't that be nice? The worst thing that could happen is getting a rejection letter?"

"Yeah it'd be nice," Dean scoffed. "But we don't get nice Sam. We get the shitty creatures living under their beds. That's just how it is."

Sam struggled to keep from showing signs of frustration. Because that wasn't how it had to be. "Maybe it could be different." Sam said carefully, watching Dean's reactions to know how bad this conversation might get.

Dean just stared back at Sam, expression blank. But it felt like those clouds were looming over head. He knew this could get very bad very quickly.

Luckily the waitress came back with their drinks and food, easing some of the tension. She seemed a little disappointed when Dean didn't return her flirtations.

And then she was gone.

It was a moment before anyone said anything.

"Is that what you want?" Dean's voice was a little strained, something pressing against his vocal chords so the words came without his usual bravado. "You want some sweet apple pie life? Picket fence, a wife, two point five kids? Really Sam?"

Sam shied away into the already small corner of the booth, wishing he hadn't said anything. But he continued slowly, fork toying with his salad. "Would it be so bad? Would normal really be so bad?"

Dean just stared at him. Sam could feel the electricity in the air, just expecting that lightening to strike him down. " _Normal?_ Do you even hear yourself?"

And there it was. Sam's whole body tensed at the tone of Dean's voice. It was stained with frustration and a hint of bitterness as he leaned over the table, a foot away from Sam's face.

"We don't get normal." He stated harshly, like it was a fact. One that would never change. "We don't get to mow the lawn or paint the picket fence. What we get is keeping that illusion of normal intact." His voice dropped. "Do you know how many people would be dead if it weren't for us? How many lives we've saved? We've given them ignorance and bliss. An ignorance we'll never have the luxury of experiencing. _Ever_. And that's a damn good thing."

Sam paled, completely entranced by the green leafs and tomatoes accompanying his burger. "But why's it gotta be us?" He whispered so quietly he hoped Dean hadn't heard him. But from the way Dean's breathing got quiet and from the sound of his jaw setting, Sam knew he heard him loud and clear.

"Because no one else is gonna do it. Because it's our job." Dean looked as though he was going to say more, but he bit his tongue.

Sam shifted in the small seat, giving a slight nod. This was the same shit John always spewed. Sam didn't know how Dean could believe it though. "I just thought maybe... Maybe normal wouldn't be so bad."

Something in Dean completely snapped. His tone was cold as steel to match the crackling storm in his eyes. His fingers splayed over the table top. Sam made the wrong decision of looking him the eye. He couldn't look away from the anger and pain polluting them. And then Dean spoke. "My normal burned up eighteen years ago Sam."

He swallowed hard, eyes darting back down to the lettuce impaled on his fork. He forced himself to take a deep breath at the mention of that night. His stomach twisted into knots that only helped expand the dark pit anchoring him to the floor, quicksand rising around him, suffocating him.

Sam knew that night was his fault. He knew if he had never been born Dean would have had a normal life. Would have been happy. Would have had two parents that loved him. A healthy family. He might have valued himself more. Realized just how amazing he was. He might have just found that wife and those kids and that picket fence and lawn to mow. He might have gotten those homemade pies fresh out of the oven. He might have gotten a father that wasn't absent or drunk most the time. It wasn't whether he _could_ have had better. Sam knew he _would_ have had better. Dean would've had normal if it weren't for Sam. And Sam was convinced Dean knew that too.

"Forget I said anything." Sam's voice wavered as he spoke, voice soft and pained. He hoped it wasn't a dead give away. But Dean knew him all too well. Because that was a voice Dean's ears were trained to catch. A voice that screamed Sam wasn't okay. 

"Don't do that." And there was Dean's big brother tone washing over Sam's pain.

Sam just kept staring at the food as his thoughts continued spiraling. He only wanted Dean happy. He just wanted to see him smile and enjoy himself. And he could do all of that if Sam was gone. He wouldn't have to watch out for him or worry about him. He wouldn't have to be held down by Sam. If Sam just disappeared Dean would be free of all that baggage--the baggage that was Sam.

"I said don't do that." Dean reiterated more firmly before his hands caught Sam's gently, an attempt to shake him from his thoughts. " _Stop._ "

It almost sounded like an order and instincts had Sam obeying, refusing to meet Dean's eyes.

"Look at me."

No. Sam couldn't look at Dean right now. Not with everything inside threatening to spill over. 

Dean squeezed his hands softly, a glimmer of calm flittering through the anxiety flooding Sam.

"Sammy..." Dean coaxed gently, waiting until Sam's eyes met his. "It wasn't your fault."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Right. You know if it weren't for me you'd still have her. We both know that."

Dean went rigid, hands holding Sam's in a death grip. "Don't you say that. Don't you fucking say that."

Sam gave a shrug, trying to pull back his hands. "Why not? It's just the truth. You don't have to pretend."

"There is no pretending. What happened was not your fault. It was wrong place wrong time. It was bad luck. It was shit. It was a lot of things, but it was _never_ your fault. Do you understand?"

Sam forced himself to nod, some of the guilt dripping away as Dean's hands held his, grip loosening.

A few more moments of silence had their fingers entwined, Dean's eyes eager and honest. Dean really believed it wasn't Sam's fault. But that didn't change Sam's view.

Sam pulled away first, missing the faint frown ghosting his brothers lips at the loss of touch.

Sam didn't say anything.

They ate the rest of their meal in tense silence before taking most of it back in to-go boxes. Sam had lost his appetite.

At least he knew how Dean felt about normal. And now Sam was set on leaving. He knew it would be a weight off of Dean's shoulders.

Dean was better off without him. And that Sam was sure of.

* * *

As soon as they got home, Sam left for Jeremy's, ignoring the fact that Dean hadn't actually planned on taking that waitress home. Sam figured he'd call her later once Sam was gone.

Jeremy didn't live too far, just a couple blocks in walking distance. Though this time Sam remembered to layer up against the cold air. Dean insisted on driving him but Sam needed to get away. He knew how Jeremy would be handling the letter and the break up. And in all honesty, Sam thought that maybe he could use a drink.

Jeremy was two drinks in by the time Sam got there. Sam didn't drink much or smoke or anything Dean would be caught doing on the weekends. But there were a few exceptions. Like now. Maybe the monstrous guilt swallowing him whole would die away if he loosened up.

Then again, Sam loosened up pretty quickly after a couple beers. But tonight Jeremy had brought out the vodka.

"That bad, huh?" Sam frowned as he found his friend in the kitchen.

"I didn't know it'd hurt so much, you know?" Jeremy scratched at his head, fingers brushing over the short blonde hairs at his neck.

He looked like shit. Sam had no idea it was _this_ bad. Jeremy didn't drink unless something really shitty had happened. And it was usually just a couple beers.

Sam wasn't a big fan of drinking away problems. He had seen his father do it all his life. Had seen Dean sneak his flask when he thought Sam wasn't watching. He didn't want that. He would not become John. Not in a million years.

"I knew we were both leaving for college but... But I thought maybe we could work long distance." Jeremy continued quietly as he leaned against the counter, pouring some juice into a cup before dumping a shot in. Jeremy was like Sam. Neither really liked the taste of alcohol.

"I'm sorry man," Sam frowned.

"An' don't gimme that shit's gon' get better speech. Or there's other fish in the sea. The only fish I want is Tim." Jeremy sighed, taking a sip of his drink before pouring Sam one. Sam took it gladly. "I really loved him, you know? I thought we'd beat the odds... Fuck, I don't wanna talk about it."

Sam just nodded, taking a sip of the offered drink. It was stronger than he thought. At least the face he made had Jeremy laughing.

"I always thought 'cause of Dean you'd like your liquor. Guess not." Jeremy relaxed, guiding Sam to his room.

Sam just groaned. "Don't wanna talk about him."

Jeremy gave him a look, hopping onto his bed and grabbing the controllers. Perfect night in. Gaming and drinking.

"And why's that? You're always talking about your brother. Like he's some god or somethin'."

"Am not. He's just a man. He's no god. Just 'cause people think he looks like one doesn't mean he is." Sam thought back to the angry storm in Dean's eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. He wished he hadn't said anything.

"Have you seen your brother?" Jeremy laughed, loose and relaxed. Better than having him drunkenly depressed.

But Sam had to agree. Dean was definitely a god out of Greek mythology or something. Like some cross between Ares and Aphrodite. It was no secret Dean was beautiful. And why Sam was thinking that instead of hating himself was beyond his understanding. He didn't want to talk about Dean. He came here to forget and have some fun.

"Yeah. Okay. How about we skip to the good part where we're smashed and playing Super Mario Bros?"

Jeremy grinned. "We're gonna need more drinks."

"I'll get the game started if you get the drinks."

"Deal."

 

It was getting late by his... Sam lost track of how many drinks he'd had. But it was late nonetheless when he made the mistake of calling his brother in an 'accidental butt dial'. Or so he'd tell himself. 

"Dean," Sam drew out the name, groaning as the tone kept ringing. "Answer the phone." And then finally he heard an answer. "Dean, s'that you?"

"Sam? What's wrong?" Dean sounded concerned. He had no reason to be. It wasn't as though Sam wasn't being responsible. Could underage drinking still pass as that?

"S'fine Dean. Everythin's jus' fine."

"You don't sound fine." Dean sounded slightly more concerned with a trace of frustration. Was Sam interrupting him? Probably.

Sam shrugged. "M'fine. Are you out wit' that girl with the nice rack?"

"No. I'm still home." There was a pause and Jeremy stirred from his current position half asleep on the bed, still insisting he could beat Sam's ass in the next round. Sam just broke into a fit of laughter because Jeremy could barely form a coherent sentence. "Jesus Sam, are you high or something?"

"I don' smoke. Well except thatonetime." His words slurred together as he clamored to refill his cup.

Dean must have heard the clinks of bottles and slosh of liquids. "Are you _drunk_?"

Sam giggled. "No."

Dean let out a sigh. "Are you lying?"

Sam took a sip. "Maybe." He took another.

"Where are you?"

"Jer'my's."

"Where?"

"Corner of fifth and... and Fremon'." Sam murmured, not registering that Dean was probably on his way. "I'm just havin' fun an' relax'n, De. There's nothin t'worry 'bout. You's always sayin' t'relax 'n'shit."

"Jesus, how much have you had?"

"I lost track. Couple shots." Sam looked at the almost empty bottle of vodka. And then at the shot glass. "Oh wait, that's a double shot glass. That 'splains so much."

Dean sighed. "I'll be there in ten." He hung up before Sam could reply.

 

"Dean? Y'did'n hafta come y'know." Sam stumbled out, giving a passed out Jeremy a wave as Dean wrapped a firm arm around his waist. "M'fine."

"Since when do you drink?"

"Since when do ya care?"

Dean gave Sam a look, something unreadable but no doubt close to hurt in his eyes. "Just get in the car."

"Well yer no fun." Sam huffed, letting Dean help him into the car. "Yer bossy ,ya know that?"

Dean rolled his eyes, starting up the car once he made sure Sam was buckled up. Which Sam insisted for two minutes he could do himself. After three minutes Dean did it for him and took off.

"You didn' hafta come y'know." Sam slurred again, turned in his seat to look at Dean.

"Yes I did." Dean glanced at him, looking him over. "You're smashed and in no condition to walk back home."

"I coulda just stayed the night y'know."

Dean didn't respond. Sam figured Dean had some sort of reason for wanting him to come home. But Sam didn't know. And he didn't really care at the moment. Dean was driving fast and Dean always looked good behind the wheel. Like really good. Why did Dean look so good?

"Wanted to make sure you were safe, Sammy."

Sam groaned, turning his face into the seat. "Don't say that Dean."

"Why not? Am I not allowed to keep you safe?"

"You can't keep me safe forever." Sam huffed, knowing he'd be out of Dean's hair and out of his way in a couple months.

"Well I sure as hell am gonna try." Dean pulled up to their house, helping Sam unbuckle.

Sam wouldn't budge. He frowned, eyes taking on that puppy dog look as pain swarmed him. "Why? Wha' good's that gon' do? M'not worth the trouble."

Dean got him out of the car without much help from Sam. Dean just looked at him incredulously. He held him there for a moment, searching his eyes. "You don't actually believe that."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't just _believe_ it. I _know_ it."

Dean just shook his head, and Sam almost swore he could see something else in Dean's eyes. Something similar to pain but it had a different connotation. Held a different meaning. He watched Dean's throat as he swallowed hard, wrapping his arm around Sam's waist to help him in.

"Just get in the house."

Sam stumbled in, leaning heavily against Dean. Something inside was collapsing and he felt he soon would too.

"You don' gotta help me Dean. M'just in yer way. M'just trouble."

Dean got him up to their room in record time, pausing as he registered Sam's words. He sat him on the bed and started helping him out of his clothes.

"Don't say that." Dean's voice was strained and firm and still wavered. Sam didn't know why Dean cared. Why should he? Sam was just trouble. That's all he had ever been. Couldn't Dean see that?

"But 's true." He said as Dean pulled off Sam's shoes. "M'just... M'just..." Sam struggled to find the words, closing his eyes as if those words were painted on his lids.

Dean had Sam out of his pants and jackets, stripped down to his boxers and tee shirt. "Sam." Dean's voice was a warning that Sam didn't listen to.

"M'no good. Yer always worryin' 'bout me. Tryna protect me. 'N m'just not worth it."

He must've been trying not to listen to Sam. Maybe Dean didn't want to hear it. Maybe Dean already knew all this and Sam didn't need to repeat it.

But then Dean was looming over him, hands splayed on the bed on either side of Sam. He felt the movement and open his eyes, looking up wide eyed at his brother.

"None of that's true." Dean said firmly, but his voice was ridden with emotion. Sam didn't hear Dean like this. Ever. Not in a very long time at least. Not since John managed to convince Dean a man had no emotions. Which Sam knew was bullshit. Because he knew Dean was overflowing with them.

But Sam couldn't stop the words he believed to be so very true. "But m'worthless."

"You are not worthless." Dean breathed, no more than an inch or two away. "You are not trouble. You are not in my way or holding me back or whatever the _fuck_ you've managed to convince yourself." Dean's eyes were wild and unpredictable and Sam's head was spinning. "You're worth so much. Dammit Sam, why can't you see that?"

Sam just blinked at Dean. Blinked before he felt a tidal wave of emotions breaking over the dam. And fuck, he was crying. Like some baby in front of his big rub-some-dirt-in-it brother.

But Dean was being unpredictable tonight. And Sam really wasn't expecting Dean to wrap him in his arms. Or hold him as he cried.

Sam knew Dean would be fine without him. He wouldn't even miss Sam. But Sam didn't think he himself could manage for long without his big brother. Without the only person who truly knew him. Sam couldn't be without Dean. It was pathetic and sad but the very thought scared him.

Sam clung to Dean, fists balled in his shirt as the tears spilled over. Dean whispered soothing words against his hair, hands moving over his back. Sam was shuddering in fear and panic and guilt and he let out a strangled little sound of pain.

"Don't leave me. Promise me... Promise me you won' leave me." He knew the plea was ironic and useless because Sam would be the one leaving. But Sam couldn't think and he couldn't rationalize and he just needed Dean. Right now. Right now and forever. "Please."

"M'not going nowhere Sammy. I'm right here. I'm never gonna leave you." Dean's voice sounded almost as pained as Sam's.

"Y-you promise?"

"Yeah Sammy. Yeah I promise."

Dean's words helped calm the never ending storm inside. His hold helped contain that wild panic inside. His promise made Sam's chest ache with something unfamiliar and frightening and wonderful. Something Sam had never felt so strongly before. It terrified him. Because Sam thought he might just know the name of that feeling.

Neither brother let go. Not even when Sam stopped crying. Not even when his body stopped shuddering.

They fell asleep like that, holding onto each other, the only calm either could find was in the beating of their hearts.

And for the moment, they were okay.


	3. Good Times Bad Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While things start falling back into place, a string of incidents become more prevalent as Sam makes a new friend. It's sad how something so terrible might be his only hope, his only answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for verbal abuse and implied/referenced physical abuse.
> 
> I just can't seem to write a happy, kind, good father John.
> 
> Sorry for the wait on this chapter.
> 
> Again, thank you so much Gabby for all the help and support.
> 
> **Some things have been added as of 8/13/16. I've been adding a few things because I'm picking this fic back up so expect some more chapters soon**

_♫_

_Waited all summer_

_to get to you._

_♫_

* * *

Sam woke up to a pounding in his temple, rocks tumbling around his head, echoing off the walls of his skull.

He groaned and snuggled back into the warm body behind him, not caring who it was. He didn't have the energy to think, let alone care.

Then he felt soft lips brushing over the back of his neck, the tip of a nose nudging at his hair. He relaxed more, a hand splayed over his stomach, soft breathing tickling his spine.

He felt something pressing at his lower back. He shifted, pressing back a little before realizing what that bulge was.

Memories from the night before filtered into his foggy head, suggesting Jeremy was the body behind him. But something was off. Because the body behind his was familiar and warm and fit around his all too perfectly.

He was seventy percent positive that was Dean behind him. _Spooning_ him. But he wasn't sure. His head hurt and he didn't want to get up and risk his world toppling over. His stomach couldn't handle that. 

"Morning beautiful." Yeah that was Dean, and suddenly Sam felt himself sobering up. That was definitely his brother's voice, sleepy and relaxed and low, breath hot against Sam's neck. He didn't understand why it was making his insides flutter.

Apparently Dean hadn't realized that it was Sam in his arms yet because he rocked his hips forward, rubbing up against Sam, a small sleep-rough sigh falling from his lips, ghosting over Sam's skin. It sent a delightful little chill through Sam's body, goosebumps breaking out beneath Dean's touch.

Sam squeaked, needing to get away because his heart was stuttering and butterflies were beating against his ribcage and Sam didn't want to know why he wanted to lean into Dean's touch. "Dean."

Dean's body went rigid as he heard Sam's voice. They both scrambled away from each other, different curses on their tongues.

Sam almost fell on his face in his attempt to get out of bed, which gave him barely enough time to make it to the bathroom before he was emptying his stomach of the alcohol from the night before.

A few minutes later, nose filled with a putrid stench and a terrible taste on his tongue, Sam pulled back. He let out a groan as he tried to steady himself, realizing he wasn't ready to get up as he doubled over the toilet again.

He was never drinking again.

Five minutes later Sam looked up to see a slightly flustered Dean offering a cup of water and Advil. Sam didn't take it until he was sure it wouldn't end up in the toilet.

The water cooled down the burning in his throat, rubbed raw and bitter.

He rested his forehead against the seat. He thought he saw Dean's hand move to rub over his back, but he pulled it back to his side. Sam just stayed slumped over the seat, trying to calm his throbbing head and uneasy stomach.

He came to the conclusion that drinking was definitely not worth the hangover.

Well he did end up waking up next to Dean. So maybe it was worth it.

It was awhile before his body calmed down enough to sit up, sipping the water to rid himself of the bitter taste in his mouth.

After another few moments he collected his foggy thoughts. "What happened last night?" He looked up for answers.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Beating Jer's ass in Mario." Sam murmured, closing his eyes as he tried to remember. "And then I called you... We were driving way too fast... I don't remember much else." It hurt trying to think, trying to blink, trying to move. "I'm never drinking again."

"Lightweight," Dean scoffed.

"Anything else happen last night?" It felt as though there was more. Sam just couldn't figure it out. His memory felt like a jigsaw puzzle, missing the most important pieces. 

Dean seemed hesitant before he answered, sitting back on his knees. "That's basically it."

Something in the way Dean spoke and withdrew suggested there was more to it. But Sam didn't have the capacity to read into it so he just gave a small nod, immediately regretting it.

"What's that hangover cure again?"

Dean grinned as if he were relieved with the change in topic. "Glad you asked."

 

After relentlessly brushing his teeth, a cold shower, a greasy breakfast, and a drink Sam never wanted to taste again--he was pretty sure Dean made it up just to spite him--Sam was mobile again. But not by much.

"I've gotta go out. You gonna be okay here?" Dean was putting on his coat, glancing at Sam.

Sam wondered where Dean was going. And why he was so quick to leave. Maybe it had to do with how he ended up in the same bed with his brother, something Sam still hadn't figured out.

"I'll be fine."

Dean raised a brow, looking him over. But he shrugged on his jacket, grabbing his keys to leave. "Be back later."

And then he was gone.

And Sam was left a little confused. But maybe that was just the cotton balls filling his head.

He stayed in all day, ignoring the envelope tucked away, still calling out to him. He'd get to it. Maybe not today. But he'd get to it.

As the day stretched on, Sam's mind started to wander, nothing able to really distract him from the questions bubbling up inside him.

He tried not to let his thoughts stray to how he woke that morning. He tried not to think about Dean's lips brushing over his neck, or how his breath danced over his skin, practically caressing him. Or how Dean's body fit around his so perfectly.

He refused to think about the bulge that had been pressed up against him. Refused to think of the slow roll of Dean's hips rocking against him.

But his mind betrayed him, and those thoughts filtered in. And Sam hated himself for them. How could he think of Dean like that? His own _brother_?

Sam knew he was a freak, but he couldn't be _that_ much of a freak.

Despite the initial disgust and overall denial, Sam could perfectly recall the feeling of their bodies pressed together, the heat radiating from Dean. Every touch, every part of his body that made contact with Dean. He could still feel it, his skin burning with the touches still lingering. And it had Sam taking another shower, a much colder shower.

He decided it was best not to think about those things. Because it was definitely not helping to lessen the panic rising in him like bile.

He chalked it down to teenage hormones. That was all it was.

But that didn't explain how he ended up with Dean curled around him.

There were still pieces of the night missing from the puzzle of his memory, but he could deal with that. He figured he just passed out. But he kept coming back to how he ended up in Dean's arms. In Dean's bed.

And why Dean seemed so eager to get away.

Had something happened between them? Had Sam said something to Dean?

Sam froze. Had he told Dean about Stanford?

The thought started churning his settled stomach, threatening a repeat of the morning.

But rational thought crept through. The morning would have gone very very differently. They definitely wouldn't have ended up in the same bed.

Dean would have been angry. Not flustered. Or whatever Dean was when he left.

Still, Sam couldn't help but feel it was something he had said that had Dean heading out the door so quickly.

He didn't figure out the most obvious answer until much later.

* * *

Dean left as soon as he knew his little brother was well enough to take care of himself. He couldn't stay there after _that_.

He had woken up with another warm body, had figured in that moment it was whatever girl he went home with the night before, and had made a move to go for another round.

With his _little brother_.

And to top off that heaping pile of embarrassment, Sam had darted out to puke. Had Dean made him that disgusted? He couldn't really blame him though. They were both dudes, brothers nonetheless, so Sam's reaction made sense.

And of course Sam was hungover and felt like shit, but Christ, waking up like that probably only made him sicker.

Dean's thoughts were buzzing a mile a minute, matching the speed of his car flying down the road, no place specific. No destination.

Memories of the night before haunted him, chasing behind him no matter how fast he drove. He couldn't outrun them. But he couldn't face them. Couldn't face the look of desperation Sam held in his watery hazel eyes. The pain they held.

Yesterday was a whole new level of crazy, even for them. Everything was backwards and upside down and inside out. Yesterday held this foul taste of _wrong_.

What was going on with his little brother?

Sam had been acting completely out of character. Sure he was a walking chick-flick, but Dean hadn't seen his brother so beaten down and broken before. Well, not in a very long time. Not like this.

And Sam was _drinking_. Sam didn't drink. He didn't party, he didn't do drugs, he didn't go out with girls. Sam didn't have fun.

It was like they had traded places completely. Dean went home and Sam went out. Dean tried to relax while Sam was getting wasted. Dean was holding Sam while Sam had been unloading all his self-hate.

It should have been the other way around.

His words from the night before were harsh blows to Dean's chest, beating him to a pulp, word after word of so much self loathing, which was all too familiar to Dean.

And then there was the diner. Sam was spewing nonsense and Dean really hadn't meant to snap.

Normal. Sam wanted normal. What the fuck did that even mean?

Dean would give anything for Sam to have a good life. To have a wife and kids and live out in the suburbs. To go to school. To have friends. A steady job that made him and honest living. To be normal.

But Dean was selfish. Dean couldn't let Sam go like that. Sam deserved so much more than life on the road. Dean knew that. Sam could be whatever he wanted, the kid was practically a genius.

But Dean couldn't let go. It just wasn't physically possible. 

The shrill ringing of his crappy little cell phone brought him out of his thoughts.

He checked the caller ID, not recognizing it.

"Domino's pizza," he answered.

"Dean." There was static and a gruff voice that had Dean sitting up just a little bit straighter.

"Dad."

"I need your help, son. Jim and I need an extra hand with this coven."

"Where?" Dean asked as he turned the car around, heading back to the house.

"I'll send you coordinates." There was a beat of silence. "How's your brother?"

Dean bit his lip. "Fine. Sam's fine." Which was about the furthest thing from the truth.

"He still playing soccer?"

Dean couldn't help but smile. He was surprised John even remembered Sam played. "Season's over. But they came in first."

Dean knew John had the faintest trace of a smile as he spoke. "That's my boy."

He waited for more, but knew what John wanted to say was left unspoken. "How long do you think I'll be gone?"

"Does it matter?"

Dean chewed his lip, glancing in his rear view mirror. "I just need to let the garage know."

"You have a job?"

Dean paused, pressing down on the accelerator. "Just a few hours here and there. As you say, hunting don't pay the bills."

"No it don't." John chuckled. "You won't be gone more than a week. I'll see you soon Dean."

"Yessir." And then the line went dead and Dean snapped the phone shut.

Nothing like a good hunt to calm down whatever was between him and Sam.

Not that there was anything there.

* * *

Sam started remembering pieces of the night, the picture becoming a little more clear.

_"Don't leave me. Promise me... Promise me you won't leave me."_

A bitter laugh fell from Sam's lips. Right. Sam would be the one leaving, he didn't need to worry about Dean abandoning him.

_"M'not going anywhere Sammy. I'm right here. I'm never going to leave you."_

Sam's heart clenched. He could remember the pain that had been in Dean's voice. 

_"Y-you promise?"_

_"Yeah Sammy. Yeah I promise."_

What was going on with Sam? One stupid letter had him all over the place. He was clinging to Dean with the knowledge he'd be leaving. But he only felt guilty about it when Dean wasn't there to distract him.

And his chest was swelling with guilt. That damn letter was calling out to him again and Sam was about to pull it out when he heard the front door open and close. He went to his desk, cracking open his notebook.

"Sammy?" Dean called as his footsteps echoed down the hall until he tapped a knuckle against the door, pushing it open. 

"Hey," Sam glanced up from the page, furrowing his brow when he saw Dean moving for his duffle. "Is everything okay?"

With a nod, Dean added a few meager items to the bag. "Yeah. Dad just needs some help."

Sam tried to hide the crestfallen look on his face. "How long?"

"Week at the most. Probably only a few days."

Sam looked back down at the page, swallowing hard. He could feel Dean's eyes on him, a tenseness filtering through the air.

"I'll be back before you know it."

They were both thinking of Dean's promise from the night before. And Sam just nodded. "Okay."

"I'll leave you some money for food." He dug through his wallet, pulling out a few bills. "This enough?"

Sam glanced up and nodded. "S'fine. Just..." He let his voice trail off as he attempted a faint smile.

"I'll be fine Sammy. Always am." Dean grinned, adding a wink for good measure. "I'll call you okay?"

Sam felt some of his uneasiness fade as Dean came over to ruffle his hair.

"Be good. No wild parties without me."

"I'll try." Sam grinned.

"Good boy. I'll see you in a few days." Dean gave Sam's hair one last ruffle before slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading out.

Sam waited until he heard the impala pulling out and driving away before dropping his notebook and letting out a sigh.

At least the time away would give him some time to figure things out. To figure college out. To figure out whatever was between him and Dean. Because as much as he wanted to deny it, something was there and it was trying to make itself known. It had been for awhile.

 

Sam walked in the door and went straight for the phone, dialing up dean's number as he dropped his back pack off.

"Peter's Porno Palace. What's your pleasure?"

Sam couldn't help but snort. "You're disgusting."

"I have my moments. Everything okay?" There was a beat as Dean must have checked the time. "Dude, aren't you supposed to be at school?"

"Got out early."

"Got caught with your pants down jerking off in the girls bathroom?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Gross."

"Happens to the best of us."

Sam made a face as he slumped onto dean's bed. "Double gross."

"So what's up?"

Sam took a breath. "You'll never believe what happened in calc today."

"God, you're a geek. Someone steal your calculator?" A pause. "You finally get laid?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "There's was this freak accident. Like... Really freaky."

"What happened?" There was a trace of concern in his brothers voice.

"This asshole, Jack, was making fun of my friend. The whole four eyes thing, but he took it pretty damn far. She was on the verge of tears and she doesn't break easy."

"Okay so typical high school shmuck. How's that freaky?"

"Well when I finally got him to lay off and leave, he tripped over a backpack, reached out to stop his fall, smacked a notebook off a desk, which sent a pencil flying through the air. Right through his eye."

"Jesus. Pretty ironic, huh? He still breathing?" The concern was gone, Sam guessing Dean was only worried about him.

"The pencil went pretty deep. But he was still alive when the paramedics took him." Sam said as he curled onto his side. He had seen his fair share of horror movies happen right before his eyes. But something so gory in such a mundane setting where things were relatively safe kind of threw him off.

"Karma's a bitch." Dean chuckled but it died down. "But that's pretty freaky. You think there's something going on?"

"Doubt it. But the principal is calling everyone's parents to make sure their kids are okay. I just didn't want you thinking the worst if he calls you."

"Thanks for the heads up." Sam could hear the roar of the impala beneath the static of the phone. "Anything good happen? The damsel in distress repay her valiant knight for saving her from the evils of high school?"

Sam bit his lip as he remembered her asking him to walk her home. How she had leaned into him, hugged him tight. "She was pretty shaken up. I mean, I walked her home."

"Ah, that's so disgustingly adorable. She hold your hand? Know you're a sucker for that."

"Sh-shut up."

"She totally did!" Dean laughed, no doubt grinning on the other line. "She hold anything else?"

Sam furrowed his brow before blushing. "Dean!"

"What? Now that would have been a proper thank you."

"You're gross." Sam chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

"So this chick have a name?"

"Mandy." Sam smiled as he laid back. Despite the guy taking a pencil to the eye, the rest of the day had been pretty great. He'd stayed at her place for a bit, doing homework and talking.

"Earth to Sam."

He was shaken from his thoughts. "Huh?"

"I asked what's she look like. You deaf or something?"

"She's got these really cute glasses--"

"You're such a geek. Wait, do they make her look like a sexy librarian? Because that's totally understandable then."

Sam huffed. "Kinda. She's got these bright green eyes." Though they held nothing to Dean's, that was for sure. "Super smart. With these freckles on her cheeks."

"You find out if they're anywhere else?"

"Dean, seriously. Do you have to make everything sexual?" Sam traced abstract marks over dean's pillow, not realizing until now that he had fallen into Dean's bed instead of his own. It smelled like home. It smelled like Dean. 

"Well this girl sounds perfect for you. Boring, geeky. Just your type."

"Her favorite band's Led Zeppelin."

"So when she turns you down, send her my way, okay?" Dean murmured as Sam heard the engine cut, knowing Dean probably had to go.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Talk to you tomorrow."

Sam sat back after hanging up the phone, getting up to finish his homework.

He stumbled across the letter while he was looking through his pack, fingers tracing over it. He left it out to come back to tomorrow.

 

"Hey kiddo. You make your move yet?" Dean asked as he called Sam. He was waiting for his dad to come back as he looked over some notes on the case.

"I'm uh, a little busy Dean."

Dean paused. Since when was Sam busy? "Friend over?"

"Something like that."

As far as Dean knew, Jeremy was Sam's only friend. And he highly doubted Sam had the guts to invite that girl over. Couldn't hurt to tease him about it though. "What, had to call up your friend because that chick rejected you?"

"Uh, she's in the other room." There was the tiniest hint of smugness in his brother's voice that Dean was wrong.

"Holy shit. Who knew you had balls. Didn't even have to call to find out how to ask her out." Dean grinned, a little proud of his brother. Finally growing up.

"It uh, it was kind of her idea."

Of course it was. "I forgot just how lame you were. Guess I'll leave you two geeks to it."

"Wait, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Sam was probably blushing as he spoke. "Her uh... Her feet keep bumping into mine... Like..." Yeah he was totally blushing. "Isn't that.. Do you think she's..."

"Dude is she trying to play footsie with you?" Dean laughed. "Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Well... What am I supposed to do?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Return it, idiot."

"How?"

"Have I taught you nothing about women? Are you really asking how to play footsie, the easiest foreplay?" He couldn't help but grin. It was kind of cute how innocent Sam still was. "Just be gentle. Don't like, kick her with your big ass feet. Play it cool. Do what I'd do."

"Which is?"

Jesus, Sam sounded adorable. He was totally nervous and flustered. Kind of like whenever Dean told him stories of his hookups. "Well by now I'd probably have her sprawled out on your bed."

"Wait, you've had sex in my bed?"

Oops. "Wasn't supposed to tell you that."

"You asshole! When?"

"The last time I did? Or the first time?" He chuckled, grinning at the frustration in Sam's tone. "You gotta be more specific, Sammy."

"You're a jerk, you know that?" Sam huffed, making Dean smirk even wider.

"Get back to me when you find your balls, bitch."

"I hate you."

"There's a fine line between love and hate Sammy." Dean paused, wondering why those were the words that came out of his mouth. They held no meaning, obviously. What meaning would there be? "Just go make your move already."

"Call you tomorrow."

Dean smiled as he hung up, turning back to his notes outlining the coven. "My boy's growing up." He couldn't help but chuckle as he got back to work.

 

"Bo's Bra Shop. Got a flat needing fixin'?"

"I just watched a girl get pounded by a bus."

Dean straightened up in his bed. "That shouldn't sound as kinky as it does. Poor choice in words, Sam." He chewed his lip. "Like, an actual bus?"

"No. By you, short bus."

Dean furrowed his brows at Sam's tone, wondering what had his panties in a twist. Though maybe seeing a girl get pummeled by a bus might do that. "Are you okay?"

"I wasn't the one that got hit by a bus."

Dean was incredibly thankful for that. "So another freak accident? What happened?"

"Regina was being a bitch to Mandy about her cheer routine or something and--"

"Woah, wait. Back up. You're dating a cheerleader?"

"We aren't dating." Dean knew Sam was blushing.

But he was a little impressed. "Still. A cheerleader. Really Sam? Didn't think they were your type."

And that was the huff Sam made when he rolled his eyes. "She isn't like that. Can we just get back to the subject?"

"Right, right. So cheer bitch gets rammed by a bus?" Seriously, their choice in words about the incident were terrible. But Dean brushed over it. "You think it's connected to pencil eye guy?"

"I dunno. But it's the second weird accident this week. I mean last week a teacher slipped on a banana peel and broke a rib, but... It wasn't like this. There wasn't blood everywhere. There weren't people on the verge of dying."

"But there've been other incidents?" Dean pushed, wondering if Sam was in the middle of something that might go horribly wrong.

There was a pause as Sam thought. "There was one other thing at the beginning of last month. I told you about it. The guy that was cornering Mandy? And she wasn't having it?"

"The one that got his balls smashed at baseball practice?"

"Yeah. I mean that's a beyond shitty thing to do. So he might fit the pattern."

"And that teacher?"

"Yells at you if you get something wrong. Like. He's made two dudes cry."

Dean nodded slowly. "Maybe just really really bad karma?"

"I hope so... But it's getting weird Dean."

"How so?" He asked with concern.

"I mean... I was there each time. I watched it happen. It's like..."

Dean sighed, knowing where Sam's mind was going. "Hey. Don't do that. This isn't your fault. Not by a long shot." He said as he tried to derail that specific train of thought.

After a few moments Sam finally relented. "Yeah. You're right. They didn't start until last month. I've been here longer."

"It's not because of you Sam. Hell maybe it's strange ass coincidence."

"Because coincidence happens to us." The sarcasm was not lost on Dean. He forgot how sassy Sam could be sometimes.

"Just... Be safe okay? Don't be an asshole to anyone. Good thing I'm not in town," he joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. "With my karma? This case is a blessing."

That got a small chuckle out of Sam. "How is the case going?"

"Eh. You know how much I hate witches. And a coven? The things they've done to people... It's disgusting. And it's some dark ages shit too." He sighed as he glanced down at the crime scene pictures. "Last one literately coughed up a lung."

"So we're both getting our share of gore. Never can catch a break, huh?"

"Not in this life."

It was quiet for a few moments before Sam cleared his throat. "I gotta go Dean."

Dean ignored the feeling of his heart dropping at Sam's words. "Right. That cheerleader. Have fun Sammy."

"You're perverted, you know that?"

"So you keep telling me."

 

It was late Friday night when Sam came across the envelope again.

There hadn't been any freak accidents, and no one had died. Though two people were in a coma. He doubted this was just coincidence.

But Dean's words rang in his head. He was right. He couldn't escape this if he kept living this life. He'd watch everyone he knew fall to the hands of some monster. And he didn't want that.

He stared at the envelope for awhile, heart clenching as his mind played the same loop of pros and cons.

But ultimately he kept coming back to his freedom. His sanity. His life. He needed this.

With shaking hands he read over it, grabbed a pen, and filled out the required information.

He dropped it off at the post office an hour later. And once it fell through the slot, it was done.

He was going to Stanford.

 

The weekend carried on like most, minus the trips to the garage to give Dean take-out. And the late night movie marathons. And Dean pestering Sam for having his lamp on while he read himself to sleep. But the phone calls were nice, knowing Dean was safe.

But he'd been spending more time with Mandy. And he had asked Dean how to know if a girl was into him. Dean had teased him for what felt like forever, until his cheeks were bright pink. Then he gave some helpful advice.

But Sam didn't have the guts to ask her out. She was becoming a good friend, and he should just be thankful for that. He didn't let himself make many friends. But he'd have another month or two there. So maybe.

And then there was college. Sam would be leaving after that. After the few months of summer probably spent hunting, he'd be gone.

He had had some time to think about that, to think about his future. And as the days had melded together, Sam had grown increasingly more fond of the idea of leaving, not feeling so incredibly guilty. He'd see Dean again. If Dean didn't hate him, he'd see him again. This couldn't tear them apart. Nothing could.

Or so he hoped.

* * *

Dean knew he should have listened. He should have obeyed the order and gotten out. But she had insisted. And he couldn't stop it. How was he supposed to know where the hex bag had been? He'd searched everywhere and still hadn't been able to find it.

If only he'd followed the order, it might have turned out differently. But Dean had been too lenient.

And that poor girl died because of his mistake. Because he couldn't find the stupid bag. Her blood was on his hands and it sickened him to his core.

His vision was blurry in his left eye from the blow he took, his elbow throbbing in part with his palm, scrapes from when he hit the gravel. He was already having trouble breathing with his ribs, trying to focus on something other than his limp shoulder.

He wiped at the blood trickling from his nose, ignoring the bruises on his own knuckles. He may have deserved it, but he had put a stop to it before it'd gotten too far. And John's split lip was clear evidence.

"When you get back, pack up and meet me at Jim's." John said as he started putting his weapons away.

Dean looked up and stared at his father. Just because Dean had fucked up the hunt? Because he couldn't save the girl? John was making them leave another town because of that?

"Are you kidding?" Dean finally asked, bad arm held in hand. 

John turned his head slightly, catching Dean's gaze for a moment before turning back to the gun he was putting away.

"Does it look like I'm joking?"

"But dad--"

John turned on his heel, looking down at his son. "Dean." His voice was level and firm, no room for debating.

Dean swallowed hard, doing his best to stand straight and not blindly obey. "But what about Sam?"

"What about him?"

"He's graduating." Dean tried to convey the importance of that to his father, but he didn't think it'd ever get across. "We only need a few more months and then Sam'll graduate. That's all. Like two months tops. He's out the first week of June."

John shook his head, turning to the trunk before tipping back his flask, emptying it. "Why's he need to graduate? You didn't."

Dean internally flinched. He was well aware of the fact he dropped out. Was well aware of how sad Sam had been not to see him walking the halls. How disappointed he looked. And how careless his father had been.

But Sam was different. He was better than him, he deserved to graduate. He had worked hard for it and that should be reason enough for their father.

"It's important to him." Dean said firmly. He never talked back to his father, but Sam wasn't here to butt heads and have a say in this. "He's worked really hard for this."

John turned back, the cold look that settled in his eyes had Dean rigid. His breath reeked. "What good will some high school diploma do him? Why is that so important?" John took a step closer, pocketing his now empty flask. "Finding the creature that killed his mother--now _that_ , that's important. You know damn well it is."

Dean took a deep breath, searching desperately for the right words. "He knows that as well as I do. But school--"

"Is unimportant. What good will it do?" John cut in. "They don't teach you how to wipe out a coven or find a damn hex bag. They don't teach you that or else you would've stayed in school and would've saved that girl."

Dean was well aware of what had happened and he didn't need his father pointing it out. Sure John could save everyone, but Dean wasn't his father. No matter how hard he tried, he'd never be him. Never be able to save everyone like his father always seemed to do.

But maybe he could save Sam. What was school good for? Nothing, if he was being honest. He racked his brain for something and looked up when he had it. "Mythology. Legends. History--where all these creatures come from. That's helpful." He was grasping at straws. "Sam's also in this tech class which will really help with research. I mean he's really good with those computers."

John seemed to think it over.

"Just two months. That's all. And then we'll go. We can leave. Just until Sam graduates."

John sighed and shook his head, turning back to finish packing his car. "No. I can't afford another two months at the house. You're going to go back, pack up, and meet me at pastor Jim's. And that's it."

"But I have enough money. I can put us up for two more months. Like I said I have a job and--"

He shut up immediately when his father slammed the trunk and turned back to him, taking two steps to tower over him, a dark glint in his eyes. "Are you honestly putting some piece of paper before your family?"

But it wasn't just a piece of paper. Not to Sam. He knew how much graduating meant to his brother. Though he couldn't find the words to convince his father.

John took a step closer. "Am I hearing you correctly that you'd rather _abandon_ this family, everything you've worked for all your life? Give up on your mother? Let the thing that killed her just walk free? Is that where your priorities lie Dean? For some diploma that you could never get? That what this is about?" John chuckled dryly, the alcohol flooding his veins quite obvious. "You failin' at every'thin'? Couldn't pass school, so Sam's gotta? Couldn't save the girl, but Sammy graduates an'," he paused, trying to finish his sentence. He'd lost his train of thought, the alcohol steering him off course. John just grasped for whatever cruelty he could. "Smar'er 'an you. Bet'a. Maybe Sam'll be able ta follow an order, unlike you."

Dean struggled to keep his breathing even. Struggled to hold his father's gaze. Struggled to hold back the glistening tears behind his eyes as his father's voice boomed, shaking his very core.

He knew in the back of his head he couldn't save Sam. He couldn't save the girl, he couldn't keep Sam in school, he couldn't do anything right. And when the day came, he knew he'd just fail Sam. The look in his father's eyes said as much.

"I thought I raised ya to be a bet'a man. But look at ya." John laughed. "Ya gon' cry, Dean? Like the lil' bitch ya are?" Dean was wondering if John had emptied out his second flask as well. His money was on the fact that he did. John continued to slur. "It's pathe'ic, Dean. It's jus' pathe'ic."

He knew John was mad about the hunt, mad that the girl had died, mad that Dean hadn't followed that one little order that would have saved her. But his father was never this ruthless. Unless he had had a few too many drinks. And Dean could smell it on his breath. So that explained some of it.

But he was never so cruel. Unless something really bad was going on. Which meant there was something Dean didn't know and his father didn't trust him with it. Most likely concerning his mother. Maybe there was a lead. But the last lead had been a dead end. Every lead so far had.

And he couldn't really blame John for taking his anger out on him. Better him than his brother. And that was the only thought that kept Dean standing there, taking each blow.

So he pushed away the pain bubbling up behind his chest, buried it deep down where it belonged. He forced himself to not feel how each word stabbed into his heart. How each slur was a knife carving into him, gutting him just right so he'd feel every little slice of his flesh until there was nothing left of him. Until he was an empty husk.

He ignored that and stared down, unable to look at the disappointment in his father's eyes.

He had to force himself to speak, feeling the strain on his vocals chords as his throat threatened to close up. "Sorry, Sir."

"Damn right ya are." John scoffed, voice cold and jagged like razors. Like the razors his words sent tearing into Dean. "And if I hear one more word from ya about it, yer gon' wish ya bit yer tongue and nev'a said nothin'. I make m'self clear?"

"Yessir."

"Good. Now go to the house, pack up, an' meet me at Jim's." John commanded once more. "Tha's an order."

Dean nodded dumbly. "Yessir."

He didn't even relax as he heard John turn and head to his truck, boots suddenly pausing in the gravel. 

"An' Dean?"

He swallowed hard, blinking furiously before even daring to look up.

"If ya aren't there at Jim's in three days, ya know the consequences."

* * *

Sam was fixing up a salad when he heard the roar of the impala, something inside his chest igniting, lighting up his entire body. He put away the items as he heard the door open, going back to the little table to eat his dinner while reading his book, waiting for Dean to come in.

He heard the door slam and that happiness spreading through his limbs faded all too quickly when he heard heavy footfalls down the hall. Dean didn't say a word as he passed through the kitchen, not even glancing at Sam.

Sam's heart fell to the floor as he tried to focus on his book, but the sentence blurred together and his salad tasted bitter and of bile and just _wrong_.

He steadied himself as he stood, cautiously padding his way into their room where Dean was throwing things onto his bed.

"Dean?" He ventured carefully, staying at a safe distance as he leaned against the doorframe.

Dean didn't respond, just continued tossing things onto his bed before he grabbed a duffle bag.

"Dean?"

He grabbed another duffle from the closet and threw it on Sam's bed. "Help me pack up."

Sam frowned. "What?"

Dean took a deep breath. "I said: help me pack up."

"Why? I'm not going anywhere." He said firmly as he stood up straight. He was not leaving. He was about to graduate and then he was going to Stanford. Everything was falling into place just fine.

"We're going to Pastor Jim's. We're leaving in an hour."

"No we're not."

Dean huffed, standing up straight and turning to Sam. "Pack your bag."

Sam shook his head. " _No._ "

"I swear to God, if you don't get your ass over here and start packing, I'll--"

"What? What exactly will you do Dean?" Sam took a step into the room, standing his ground because no way in hell was he leaving. "What is going on?"

"We're leaving." Dean stated firmly. But his voice held something else that Sam couldn't put his finger on. And Sam was too angry to notice the hint of pain hiding behind Dean's eyes.

"But I'm graduating." He said slowly.

Sam watched Dean heave a heavy breath. It seemed to pain him when he spoke his next words. "Not anymore."

Sam stared at him in shock, anger bubbling up inside as he tried to push it back down. "You can't do this."

"Looks like I can." Dean turned back to pull something out from under his bed, wincing as he held his arm to his stomach. 

Sam shook his head furiously, gritting his teeth. "I'm not going anywhere. You can't make me."

Dean let out a frustrated breath as he laid out another bag. "You're still a minor. So whether you like it or not we're going."

"But _why?_ "

"Because Dad gave us an order and we're gonna follow it." Dean's voice raised slightly as he answered, something swirling behind his eyes that Sam couldn't name. Sam was too focused on his rising anger to notice much else.

"You don't have to do every little thing John says, you know."

Dean shook his head hard. "Yes I do."

"Why?" Sam never understood why Dean was so quick to drop everything and just follow after John.

"Because he's our father."

"So?"

Dean huffed. "So it's called being a good son."

Sam rolled his eyes and let out a scoff. "That's bullshit Dean. Letting him rule your life--that's just pathetic."

Sam watched as something in Dean snapped, eyes furious whirlwinds of pain and anger as he closed the distance between them, Sam taking a few steps back at the sheer force of emotion in his brothers eyes. But Dean was right up in his face, hand gripping Sam's collar firmly, face mere inches away, and that's when Sam saw how watery his eyes were, how hard he was holding everything back.

"Don't you fucking say that Sam." His voice wavered as he looked down at his brother angrily, but also pleadingly. "Not you."

Sam hadn't seen Dean like this in awhile. Not since the last time he had seen him get into a fight with their father.

Sam searched Dean's eyes, his face, trying to figure out what exactly caused this fissure in the mask his brother so desperately tried to hide behind. What had caused it to slip.

In his search he noticed the broken skin below his brother's left eyebrow, the thin red cut standing out. There was a faint red around his brother's left eye, high on his cheek bone where a redness was just beginning to swell. He gently brought his hand up to cup Dean's jaw, hating how he flinched at the touch.

After a moment Dean's eyes dropped to the floor and he leaned into Sam's palm as he gently turned Dean's face to get a better look. Dean's grip on his collar loosened as Sam gently held his wrist. Sam's thumb gently ran over his cheek, not close enough to the tender skin. He saw the swelling of his nose as well, the reddened flesh rising.

The fight had left Sam and he swallowed hard. "Dean, what happened?"

Dean didn't look up, just kept his eyes trained on the ground, mumbling his response. "Nothing." His hand dropped from Sam's shirt completely. 

"Dean. Is this from the hunt?"

"Yeah." His voice cracked and Sam knew Dean was lying. "You should see the number the witch did on my ribs."

Sam frowned, pulling back his hand as Dean tugged up his shirt, showing the already bruising flesh. Sam could see the difference though. The soon to be black-eye was much more fresh.

He glanced over Dean's body, noting the bulge of a sloppy bandage on his elbow pushing against the confines of his jacket and the gauze wrapped around his palm and over his knuckles. Dean winced as he raised his shirt, shoulder twitching. 

He let Dean drop the corner of his shirt before Sam wrapped his arms around him.

Dean was rigid for a few moments. "Sammy, M'fine." It was a lie Sam was all too used to hearing.

"Most witches don't know how to throw such a mean right hook."

Dean stilled before relaxing in his brother's arms, head leaning on his shoulder as he clung to him.

Sam rubbed his back, feeling his big brother trembling. "How about you go sit and I'll grab the first aid kit and some ice, okay?"

Dean nodded slightly and Sam could feel a dampness seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt.

He could remember very clearly the last time Dean had cried. His dad made an example out of him, a point that real men didn't cry. It was forever ingrained in his mind.

And it was complete bullshit.

Dean pulled away after another minute, seemingly unable to let go, as if Sam were the anchor grounding him as waves of forgotten emotion swept over him.

Dean was spun around and facing the bed before Sam could catch a glimpse of the wetness staining his cheeks.

Sam quickly grabbed the first aid kit and searched through the freezer, coming up with two bags of peas. He ignored how cliche it seemed as he made his way back to their room, Dean the only thing on his mind. 

Though the thought of moving and not graduating lingered in the back of his mind, waiting for a chance to strike and fill Sam with the panic of never finding his freedom. Of never living his life. Of never escaping this hell, cursed to watch everyone around him die.

It was waiting to wrap its hands around his throat and suffocate him, pull him under the tide of fear and watch him drown. 

He found Dean grimacing as he was pulling off his jacket, grabbing at his shoulder as he sat down. His eyes were still a little red and wet but Sam didn't say anything.

"Dislocated?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

Sam laid out the first aid kit after moving Dean's bags to the floor, standing next to him expectantly.

Dean reluctantly got up, Sam positioning behind him, hands gentle on his brother's arm.

"Count of three, okay?"

Dean nodded.

Sam took a breath, waiting for Dean to relax. "One--" He popped it back into place suddenly, Dean letting out a grunt as a crack sounded.

He leaned over, grabbing at his arm as he hissed. "Fuck happened to three?" He growled as he started to move his arm around experimentally.

Sam shrugged. "Didn't want you tensing up."

Dean gave a mocking huff as he sat back down, stretching out his arm until the aching was more dull. Sam sat beside him, getting some antiseptic wipes as he waited for Dean to take off his shirt, adverting his eyes to not stare at the toned muscle revealed.

He didn't know why. It wasn't like he hadn't seen Dean shirtless countless times before.

He looked up and tried not to let his eyes longer too long as he looked over dean's bodies for bruises and cuts. The bruising on his ribs was really starting to show. His fingers gently traced around the bruising.

"Table?"

Dean gave a slight nod.

Sam let his fingers linger just a bit before pulling back.

Chewing his lip, he gently took Dean's face in hand, turning it to look at the cut on his brow. "It was just a fist, right?" He asked, slightly worried, stomach full of tumbling rocks. He wouldn't put it past John to use something else. At least not if he was drunk. 

"Witch had a ring." Dean mumbled, closing his eyes as he leaned into Sam's gentle touch.

Sam let out a small sigh. So Dean was sticking with that.

Sam started cleaning the small cut, dabbing the wipe over it and cleaning the surrounding area. "You gonna tell me what really happened?" He asked softly, pulling back to put a small butterfly bandaid over it.

Dean was silent for a few moments, taking the bag of peas from Sam gratefully before putting them to his eye. "There's nothing to tell." He murmured, voice cracking. "I fucked up and I got what I deserved."

Sam took Dean's hand in his, unwrapping the gauze. "You didn't deserve that Dean." It hurt to think Dean might actually believe that. Because he knew his brother would believe that lie. He was practically conditioned to. 

Dean just shook his head. "I disobeyed a direct order and," his voice cut off and he seemed to curse himself.

Sam gently ran his thumb over Dean's, careful not to irritate any injury. "It's okay Dean."

Sam watched as Dean's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly and squeezed his eyes shut. "No, it's not."

The pain in his voice had Sam wanting to reach out and wrap Dean in his arms again. But instead he started cleaning the wounds on his knuckles and the scrapes on his palm.

"If I'd just..." He started again once he seemed to find some composure. "I should've gotten a lot worse Sam. If I'd just listen to him, if I'd just obeyed she'd..." He shook his head, eyes looking down as a tear slipped down his cheek.

Sam carefully wrapped Dean's hand in a new bandage, letting Dean talk at his own will. He didn't want to spook him. Dean rarely opened up. And he clearly needed to.

"Dad had said to leave right away but she had to grab something. And--God I was stupid. I should've just gone right then. But then she collapsed and she... And I..." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes again as the images played over and over again. "I couldn't find the bag. I just couldn't find the damn hex bag, Sam. If I'd just..."

Sam placed Dean's hand in his lap, cleaning up the scrapes on his elbow before bandaging it, trying to catch Dean's eye as he spoke. And when Dean finally looked up there was so much pain, so much guilt in his gaze that Sam could barely hold it.

"I watched her die Sam." The words came out broken, fractured, strained. "I... I let her die."

"It wasn't your fault." He knew Dean wouldn't believe him, but seeing his big tough brother such a broken mess sliced right through Sam's heart.

"Yes it was. If I'd just--"

"You didn't know."

"But...."

Sam shook his head and pulled Dean into his arms again, careful of his ribs as he held him close. He felt Dean drop the bag of peas into his lap and relax into his brother's hold, sniffling lightly.

Sam didn't know how long they sat there like that. Dean clinging to Sam as he let the tears fall, let his resolve slip. And Sam just held him, held him through the waves breaking over him, spilling down his cheeks, flooding him like Sam had never seen. He didn't think all this was because of the girl. They'd watched people die before. There was something more. A lot more. But Sam didn't ask.

After awhile Dean slowly pulled back, wiping at his face. He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "He was right. I am pathetic. Just look at me." Sam cringed at the self-hatred in that huff of laughter, that disgust seeping out.

"He said that?"

Dean looked up. "Lot more than that. You know how he is when he's drunk."

That explained a lot. "You're not pathetic Dean."

Dean just shook his head, looking over the bandages Sam had done before taking the other bag of peas and pressing them to his ribs.

"Thought you said I was."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I said letting John rule your life was pathetic."

Dean shrugged slightly, moving up on the bed to lie back, cursing as he clutched at his side, trying to breathe. "Fuck."

Sam worried his lip, looking up from putting away the first aid kit and throwing away the bandages. "You think you fracture one?"

"It'd hurt a lot more." He grunted, getting comfortable as he rested the other bag over his eye and nose. Sam could see him closing off again, slipping the cracked mask back on.

Sam glanced to the clock, watching as it neared the end of the hour. Now he was starting to realize they had to leave, that he wouldn't graduate and he wouldn't go to Stanford and he'd never get away from it all. He forced himself to take deep breaths.

Dean spoke up as he eyed his brother. "You know, there's one thing that might convince dad to let us stay. Maybe not at this house, but in the area."

Sam looked over, hope filling his eyes. "Yeah?"

"If we found a case."

Sam chewed his lip as he wracked his brain. Something about Dean wanting Sam to stay, trying to help him out with this had his chest warming. "Uh, I hear the girls bathroom is haunted?" He offered knowing it was just a rumor.

Dean chuckled. "I don't think that's solid evidence. Dad's gonna need something real. And even then he won't like the idea. But we have three days to get to Jim's."

Sam did the math in his head of how long it would take. "So by tomorrow night?"

Dean pursed his lips and nodded.

Then Sam snapped up. "The freak accidents. There's gotta be something there."

Dean felt a small smile on his lips. It was a little pained because Sam was too good at this. Too good at research and hunting and putting it all together. Sam was always the one pointing things out, finding the missing pieces. Dean knew Sam could apply that to so much more.

"Yeah' Sammy. That's a good place to start."


	4. Tiny Vessels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean demands details on how exactly his innocent little brother ended up in the girl's bathroom. But due to his brother's little encounter, they may just be able to stay in town a little longer. Or so he hopes for Sam's sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back! Sorry for the long hiatus but I'm picking writing back up and I wanted to continue with this fic because I have so many ideas for it.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about calculus except what Google has to offer.
> 
> If you get the film references, props to you.
> 
> Also be warned, this is pretty much just het.  
> Like pure het. With a side of angsty gay.
> 
>  
> 
> _Fucking Kiss already you idiots._

_♫_

_Campfire outside,_

_we fell and kissed._

_♫_

* * *

Sam came home the next day flustered and shaky. The moment he laid eyes on Dean looking over a car magazine he started in.

"The girl's bathroom is definitely haunted."

Dean quirked his right eyebrow, looking up at his brother. The black eye had settled in some, flesh darkening around his left eye. But Dean acted as though nothing had happened. That's what he did best after all. "And how would you know?"

"I uh, I saw the ghost."

That caught Dean's attention. He put down the magazine and sat back, careful with his ribs, folding his arms. "And what were you doing in the girl's bathroom Sammy?"

Sam visibly flushed, eyes everywhere but on Dean's. "Um..."

Dean sat up, eyes wide and giddy even as he tried to control his intrigue. "Sammy, please tell me you lost your Visa." Dean grinned suggestively. Why else would Sam be in the girls bathroom? Knowing him his excuse would be getting a girl a tampon. Dean was hoping for something a little more steamy. Yeah he could definitely picture that. Then he realized he was picturing his _little brother_ getting it on. He blinked the thought away.

"Visa? It's in my wallet--oh. Oh, n-no I... Shut up." Sam put his bag down on his bed, trying to change the topic. But Dean stopped him before he had the chance.

"Then why were you in the girl's bathroom, huh?" He was smug and a little proud.

When he didn't respond Dean kept going, relentless against his younger brother. "Ooh, Sammy. Was it with that Mandy girl? How far you get Sam? Over the bra, under the blouse?" His grin widened when Sam's cheeks turned a shade darker. "Hmm... Over the panties, no bra, blouse unbuttoned?"

Sam refused to give a response. So Dean pushed, plump lips drawing out every word, searing them into Sam's frazzled mind. "You slip her the hot beef injection?"

"Jesus, Dean! Just shut up!" Sam finally huffed, whirling around. He was adorable when he was flustered. "We made out. And... And that's it."

"Doesn't sound like that's it. Come on, why won't you tell me?" He prodded, wanting to know every dirty detail.

"Because it's my business. My personal business." Sam huffed, meeting Dean's gaze briefly.

"Well, Sammy, it doesn't sound like you're getting much business, so..." Dean knew he'd spill if he pushed him enough.

"Oh I got plenty, believe me." And there it was.

And then Sam was blushing even more and Dean was up, walking towards him, having dropped the bag of peas on the bed that he's had resting on his ribs. This was far more important.

"Did my baby boy pop his cherry?" Dean teased, ruffling his hair with his good hand. 

"Gross. No. We just..." He sighed, sitting down on the bed when Dean joined him. "You know..."

Dean smirked. "No Sam, I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"You're an ass, you know that?" Sam said, handing the bag back to Dean who took it with an eye roll.

"Yes, but it's a very nice ass."

Sam's cheeks flushed even more, if possible. "That's not what I--"

"Sure. Whatever you say."

"Ice your ribs." Sam chided, trying to drop it.

"Yessir, doctor Sammy." Dean sighed, but complied. "Now spill."

"Well we uh, we were in the library...."

 

Sam was engrossed in his calculus text book, working out some proofs in the library when he spotted familiar combat boots from the corner of his eye. He smiled as he looked up into those glass-framed green eyes. "Hey Mandy."

She leaned over the table, hair falling into her face as she looked over Sam's paper. "Proofs?"

"Yep. Just getting the homework finished." He glanced down at his paper and then back up. "You uh, you want to join me?" He asked as he cleared the spot next to him, voice a little higher than he meant it to be.

Her smile was warm as she sat down next to him. "I only got the first half done anyways." She pulled out her papers, turning the textbook to the side so she could see. "Wait, how does M equal that?"

"It's quotient." He answered, pointing to a formula.

"Oh that makes so much sense now." She shook her head, erasing some of her work on the problem. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Sam murmured, trying to ignore the way she pressed into him as she tried to read his textbook.

Okay, he couldn't really ignore it. He shifted to get a little more comfortable, arm resting on the back of her chair. That's what Dean would do, right? Yeah. Play it cool.

They stayed like that for a bit as they did their work, Sam clearly not that focused as Mandy pointed a few things out that he had gotten wrong.

"That's G, not F."

He blushed, fixing the equation. It was kind of hard to think with her pressing closer. 

"It's supposed to be product."

He blushed more, rewriting the formula.

 _What would Dean do?_.

His arm shifted from the back of the chair to her shoulders, testing the waters. Dean made this all sound so much easier. He forgot to mention the anxiety that came with not knowing if he was making the right move. Or when he was supposed to be making said move.

"Are you trying to put your moves on me?" Mandy asked with a little chuckle, eyes not lifting from her work. 

Sam pulled back a little, blushing bright red. "N-no."

She leaned back into his arm, waiting until he rested it around her shoulders again before speaking. "It's fine. I'm just surprised it took you this long."

He blushed even more, focusing on his work again as he started relaxing into things, knowing that his timing was right, if not a little late. He let his fingers trace over her bare arm while they continued doing their work. She leaned into him and Sam relaxed even more.

He hadn't looked at Mandy in a few minutes, trying to focus on his work and not the press of her body against his, so he missed her growing smirk each time she pointed something out.

And he missed the devious glint in her eyes when she dropped her pencil. Onto Sam's lap. His crotch to be specific.

He didn't notice until he felt her warm hand ghosting over his thigh, fingers teasing over the denim as she tried to get ahold of the pencil. Which kept slipping from her grip. And Sam's pants kept getting tighter.

His hand tightened gently on her shoulder in surprise as his breathing hitched.

"Oops." She murmured, picking her pencil up. "Sorry 'bout that."

"S'fine." He mumbled as he shifted in his seat, hoping the growing bulge in his pants wasn't so obvious. Damn teenage hormones. His mind definitely was not able to focus on math right now.

Because she dropped her pencil again, not five minutes later.

And this time she was shameless in her efforts, fingers brushing over Sam's bulge until he finally managed to speak.

"M-Mandy..." He squeaked, catching her hand with his gently as his eyes glanced around.

She looked up, hand pausing. "Shit. Oh Sam, I'm sorry. I just thought..."

"No, no it's uh, it's fine. Believe me it's totally fine." He breathed, turning his head slightly. "I just... You don't have to or, uh, anything."

 

"Woah, wait." Dean interrupted. "You seriously stopped a girl from giving you a handjob." He stared at his brother. "Sam, have I taught you absolutely nothing?"

"Let me finish." He huffed, rolling his eyes. "I didn't want to rush into things."

"You need to do more thinking with your downstairs brain, I swear. Please tell me you eventually get some."

"Let me finish. Where was I?"

"You were stopping Mandy's efforts to get in your pants."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Anyways..."

 

Sam blushed softly, thumb brushing over hers as he looked at her. "It's totally fine if we don't do anything."

She chuckled softly. "God you're too sweet. Sam, if I didn't want to I wouldn't have made a move. You're not pushing me or anything, if that's what you're worried about. But if I'm pushing you, I'll stop. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." She said softly, head tilting to look up at Sam.

His eyes flicked from hers down to her lips and back up as his arm tightened around her, pulling her close. _What would Dean do?_

"Okay, good. I just... You know..." He trailed off, hand moving from her arm to her shoulder, thumb brushing gently over her skin. He let go of her hand to brush some hair out of her face, tucking a strand behind her ear.

She smiled at him, hand moving to just rest on his thigh. Her eyes flicked to his lips, lingering before glancing back up at him. "We can uh, slow down if you want?"

Sam bit his lip, eyes meeting hers as he gave a small little nod. She held his gaze a few moments longer before slowly returning to their work.

 

"Dude." Dean huffed, staring at Sam almost in shock. "Are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"That was the look! She wanted you to kiss her! Oh my God, are you blind?" Dean shook his head, genuinely shocked that Sam could miss such a big sign.

"Wait... That was the look?"

"Yes you moron!" He elbowed Sam lightly. "Jesus fuck, you're more of a virgin than I thought."

"Sh-shut up." Sam blushed, tucking some hair behind his ear as he ducked his head.

Dean's mind was wandering though and he couldn't help but give his own two cents. "Wanna know what I would've done?"

Sam glanced up through his bangs. "Not really, no."

Dean grinned wide, leaning into Sam playfully. "Would've said somethin' like, 'be a good girl and finish your work first.' You know, make her really want it."

Sam shook his head. "That just sounds creepy."

Dean sighed as he wrapped his good arm around Sam's shoulders, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, lips just centimeters away, curled into a devious smirk. "Be a good boy and finish up the story, 'kay?"

Sam was bright red. Pants tight. Breath caught. Yeah, he understood how that would've worked. His body was already heating up as Dean snickered softly, breath tickling his ear. It reminded him of how they woke up the other morning. Bodies pressed together, lips brushing over his neck. Goosebumps. Dean's gruff morning voice. The soft press to his back.

"Oh my god!" Sam was jostled from his thoughts as Dean fell away from him with a sharp snort. His laughter was deep and hearty, eyes filled with amusement before fluttering shut. His arms wrapped around his stomach as he lay back, lost to a fit of laughter. "Your... Your face!" Dean managed between snorts and chuckles. "Oh god, your face! Priceless!" He chortled, laughing until his ribs hurt, more than they already did.

Sam buried his face in his hands. He was embarrassed beyond belief. He rolled onto the bed, hiding his face in the pillow, staring at the fabric blankly as his mind fried.

"Ahh, you make it too damn easy, baby boy." Dean breathed as he caught ahold of himself, wincing slightly as he sat up. "Too damn easy." He chuckled and ruffled Sam's hair. "Sorry kiddo. G'head. Wanna hear the rest. When does it start getting juicy?"

Sam groaned into the pillow before throwing the other one blindly at Dean. "I hate you." He huffed, glancing at his big brother as he turned his head only to receive the same pillow to the face. "Jerk." He grunted as he sat up, gripping the pillow in his lap. It also helped to hide something, but he refused to think about that.

Dean was grinning. "You're such a bitch. C'mon." He lay down next to Sam, placing the pack of frozen peas on his ribs. 

Sam tried to forget about the last few minutes. The playful 'baby boy' warming his gut in ways it really shouldn't. He stuttered before finally forming a sentence. "R-Right, um. Uh, we uh, we started getting b-back to work..."

 

Somehow Sam managed to finish another problem without Mandy having to help him. He was more than a little distracted though. Most of his blood was heading south, so his upstairs brain wasn't exactly operating at full capacity.

He looked over at her paper, comparing their answers. He got distracted by her lips though. They looked so soft and so perfect. And Sam found himself comparing them to Dean's, realizing just how feminine they were.

Mandy caught him staring at her lips, tongue darting out to wet them and Sam caught the movement, licking his own.

"You know, this is the part where you usually would kiss the girl..." She trailed off, chuckling softly as Sam seemed to be shaken out of his thoughts of his brother's lips.

"I know." He grinned, tucking some hair behind her ear. "I was just thinking of how beautiful you are."

 

"You didn't actually say that, right?" Dean gawked.

Sam blushed.

"Oh God, I'm gonna puke. You are the biggest sap."

"Well she seemed to like it." Sam smirked, getting back to the story.

 

Mandy blushed, eyes glancing down as Sam's thumb traced over her cheek, over her freckles. He vaguely wondered how many more Dean had.

"You really are, you know."

She blushed more, Sam only smiling wider.

"You're really cute when you blush." He noted, following instinct here and the voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like his brother, telling him to make a move already.

"Oh my God, Sam." She shook her head in slight embarrassment before looking up, the two of them mere centimeters apart. "You're such a dork." She rolled her eyes before leaning up to close the distance finally, lips pressing against Sam's.

Sam's eyes fluttered closed as he kept it slow and soft, cupping the back of her head, his other hand resting on her cheek as his lips moved against hers. It seemed to go on forever, lips pressing together, pulling apart for a brief moment as their eyes met before leaning in for more, hand moving from her cheek, over her shoulder and down her arm. He pulled back when the need for air became too great.

Mandy was the first to break the silence. "God, I've been wanting to do that for weeks."

Sam chuckled. "Really?"

She nodded, licking her lips. "So don't stop now."

He grinned, hand moving down her arm to her side, resting on her hip as he leaned in again, this time tickling the seem of her lips with the tip of his tongue until she opened up to him. Her hand squeezed his bicep, his fingers splaying in her hair as she pressed closer, tongue moving against his in the best possible way, slowly retreating as Sam chased after it. And then she started sucking on his, which threw him for a loop because no one had done that before. Dean had talked about a few girls doing it to him but Sam had never experienced it. Because he instantly started wondering how that would feel on other parts of his body.

He pulled back after a few moments, panting softly as he tried to catch his breath. "Woah."

She flushed. "Did you... Did you not like that?"

"God, I fucking loved it." He grinned, resting their foreheads together. His hand tightened ever so slightly in her hair. He vaguely noted that it wasn't as soft as Dean's. 

Her hand moved up his thigh, rubbing over his bulge and he let out a soft little sigh, any and all thought leaving. "I can tell." She murmured, leaning in to kiss him again but Sam shook his head, realizing just where they were. And if went in for a kiss, something told him he wouldn't just stop there. 

"What if someone sees?"

"The bookcase is pretty good at blocking the view." She whispered, fingers stroking him through the fabric of his jeans. His hand moved up her side a little, thumb brushing her ribs, just below her breast. He didn't want to push it.

"Yeah but still. Someone could walk in at any second." He breathed, fingers tightening in her hair as she continued stroking him.

"So you wanna go somewhere more private?" She smirked, mouthing at his jaw. Her hand slipped down Sam's bicep, down his arm until she reached his hand, guiding it up a bit until his thumb brushed over her breast and she let out a soft little breath.

Sam's breathing hitched at the permission to touch, thumb brushing over her breast, feeling her nipple harden under the fabric of her very thin bra. He grinned. "Yeah. Somewhere more private would be really good right now."

She sighed softly, pressing up into his hand as it closed around her breast, squeezing gently. "No one ever uses the girls bathroom in the B wing." She noted with a soft hum, squeezing Sam through his pants.

He pulled back, grinning as she whimpered at the loss of touch. "Shall we?"

"God yes." She nodded, quickly pulling back to pack up their things, eagerly guiding him to the bathroom no one ever used.

She checked the stalls after dropping her bag, Sam letting his own fall to the floor. "Coast clear?" He grinned as she came back, hands a little shaky. He'd never really done this before. And without Dean there to help he really didn't know if he was doing this right. Instinct was all he had. 

"Just us." She grinned, locking the bathroom door before turning to Sam, pulling him in and groaning as their mouths crashed together, more desperate than before as he pressed into her.

His hands moved up her sides, one slipping under her shirt before pausing, pulling back to catch his breath. "Is this okay?" He asked, thumb brushing over her flushed skin just under her bra.

Mandy nodded, squirming as she tried to get Sam to hurry up. But he was having too much fun teasing her, lips moving over her neck as his hand moved up, thumb skimming over her breast, dipping under her bra strap, sliding it down her shoulder.

"You sure?" He murmured against her skin, fingers playing with the strap as he lowered it, the spaghetti straps making things easier.

She nodded again, desperately trying to grind up against him. He worked his thigh between hers, feeling her rocking down against it.

He sucked softly at her neck, grinding up against her with a soft groan, not quite sure what he was doing but he went with it because Mandy sure seemed to like it.

_What would Dean do?_

Sam picked Mandy up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he moved her to the counter, pressing her against the mirror as their mouths met again, her hands groping at his ass as he set her down. He wasn't as gentle this time and she seemed to love it.

He nipped at her lower lip, giving it a soft tug before licking open her mouth, pulling soft sighs and throaty groans from her. She sounded beatiful. Sam wanted to learn all the sounds she could make.

He briefly wondered how similar they sounded to Dean's. Sam had accidentally come home at the wrong time before. More than once. And Dean could be very vocal or incredibly silent. The two of them differed in pitch but had the same pleasure behind them. Neither seemed to ever be louder than necessary. Sam knew girls would fake things, Dean had taught him the difference. And Mandy wasn't faking it.

He moved his hands from her hips, sliding up and slowly pushing up her shirt. When she didn't protest, he peeled it off, dipping down to kiss at her collar bone, nose trailing in a teasing motion.

Mandy whimpered.

Sam smirked, hand sliding up her back, pulling her from the mirror and pressing her against him, teeth grazing her neck.

"Fuck, Sam." She groaned, goosebumps breaking out beneath his lips as he deftly unhinged her bra, not struggling as much as he thought he would.

 

Dean scoffed. "That's a lie. No way you got her bra off that easily. Not your first time."

Sam smirked at Dean. "Never said it was my first time."

Dean's mouth fell open ever so slightly, those plump lips stirring more thoughts he shouldn't be thinking. Reliving his time with Mandy already had him hard in his jeans. Dean wasn't helping.

"You little bitch! No way you've done this before. You would've told me." Dean said incredulously.

Sam was having fun teasing Dean for once. He leaned closer. "I don't always kiss and tell Dean."

"That's bullshit! Tell me how it really happened why don't ya?"

Sam sighed, admitting his failure with Mandy's bra.

 

"Fuck, Sam." Mandy groaned, goosebumps breaking out beneath his lips as his fingers brushed over the back of her bra strap. But he couldn't find the clasp.

He continued his teasing kisses while fumbling for it. He found it with the help of Mandy's hand. She easily undid it in a swift motion, smirking as Sam rolled his eyes.

"I don't think it's fair that I'm the only one shirtless." She breathed, leaning forward to nip at his neck, her hands pulling at his shirt. Sam helped, stepping back to pull it off, tossing it to the side.

He felt a chill run down his spine. Maybe it was just a little colder than he'd thought it was.

He stepped forward, watching as Mandy slid off her bra. Her cheeks were a little red as she batted her eyelashes. Sam sucked in his breath as she revealed her fucking gorgeous tits. Sam finally understood Dean's obsession.

"Fuck, you're perfect." The words slipped from his lips, quirking into a smirk as he stepped closer, pressing up against her, lips brushing over her sharp collarbone. He glanced up as he sucked at her skin softly.

"Leaving your mark?" She laughed, but it was broken off into a sigh as Sam's fingers found her perky nipple, a hard bud in the arousal. And the cold.

She moaned loudly, letting her head fall back. It hit the mirror behind her harder than she meant and she winced.

Sam pulled his lips away, hand on her lower back sliding up to the base of her neck. "Shit, you okay?"

She gave a little nod and an embarrassed chuckle. "Guess you're just that good."

Sam rolled his eyes, finger tangling in her hair gently. "You sure you're good?"

She leaned their foreheads together and looked into his eyes, her own wide and eager. "Yes. I'm fine. Now please continue."

Another chill ran down Sam's spine, and not an all too pleasant one as he pulled back for a moment, feeling the air around him cool even more. Mandy was confused as she tried pulling him closer. "Seriously Sam, I'm fine."

"Hold on... Gimme a sec." He murmured. She settled to sucking at his neck, making him moan, but he knew this feeling. He didn't sense it before because he was too caught up in the moment. It was a gut feeling. And it was bad.

He gasped as she nipped at his neck, sucking and biting as she ground up against him.

His arms wrapped around her, groaning softly. And then he felt her hand between his legs and he opened his eyes with another gasp before going rigid at the reflection in the mirror. His arms tightened protectively around Mandy and she stopped, knowing something wasn't right.

"Sam...?"

"Shh." He breathed softly, blinking at the flickering figure in the mirror, standing behind him. He swallowed hard, knowing he was unarmed. His knife was in his backpack. But it wouldn't do any good against a ghost.

Mandy must have looked up because she went rigid, clinging to Sam. She didn't scream though. She just stayed still.

She stared at the figure. The figure stared back.

And then it disappeared completely, Sam slowly letting go to turn around, body blocking Mandy in case it appeared again.

"We should leave." He said as he turned back, the look on her face saying she was definitely on board with that idea.

Sam quickly got Mandy her bra and shirt before pulling on his own, glancing around just to be sure.

He grabbed their bags, helping Mandy out, arm around her protectively. But there was no sign of the ghost as they left. Just that general unease.

"Are you okay?" He asked once they were a safe distance away. He was sure it was just a rumor that the girls' bathroom was haunted. But he knew what he saw.

"I'm fine." She said a little shakily, blinking up at him. She searched his eyes for a long moment. "You're not scared."

He gave a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Neither are you."

"It's not the first time I've seen a ghost, Sam." She said with a raised brow. "Something tells me it wasn't your first either."

He shook his head, sighing softly. "Not my first. But are you sure you're okay?" He asked as he cupped her cheek, looking over her to make sure she wasn't hurt or about to scream bloody murder and run away. He was a little surprised though, that she had seen a ghost before. And had been so calm.

"Yeah Sam. Really, I'm okay." She nodded, pressing a kiss to his wrist.

"You don't look very surprised." He said slowly.

She leaned into him, pressing into his chest. He stroked her hair as she took a deep breath. She hesitated briefly, internally debating something. Then she spoke, voice soft and sad. "That's because I've seen her before."

Sam pulled back a little, looking down into her eyes. "You have?"

Mandy nodded slowly. "You're gonna call me crazy."

"No I won't. Believe me, I won't."

Mandy swallowed hard, green eyes sad as she looked up at him. "She's my sister."

* * *

Dean looked at him for a long moment. "So basically what you're saying is, you got cockblocked by your girlfriend's dead sister?"

Sam gave a little nod.

Dean sighed. "Total boner killer, man."

That's when Sam realized Dean's pants were doing their best to hide his slight bulge. Perhaps Sam had given a little too much description. Though he left out the parts where he'd thought of Dean. Repeatedly.

"Uh... Yeah pretty much."

"Well I gotta say, ghost-blocking aside, who fucking knew you were such an animal Sam?" Dean winked, ruffling his hair with a grin. "Such a gentleman though. Gotta balance the two otherwise you'll come across like the virgin you are. But you don't want to be too aggressive either. Sounds like you pulled it off."

Sam blushed, rolling away from the touch. "I'm not an animal."

"From what you described, you sure are." Dean said, seeming both proud and surprised.

"You weren't there." Sam tossed a glare his way, meeting his gleaming and giddy green eyes. He remembered looking into Mandy's before kissing her, thinking how they reminded him of Dean's. God, her's held nothing to his brother's.

Dean licked his lips, looking back at Sam with a little chuckle. "Yeah but if I was..."

Sam raised a brow and Dean swallowed, realizing what he had just said. He licked his lips again, this time with slight nerves.

Sam saw the movement and mirrored it without thinking, eyes falling to Dean's lips for a brief moment.

They looked at each other for a long moment, the silence not as awkward as Dean had expected it to be.

Sam was the first to speak, not quite thinking it through. "What, you'd show me how to _really_ treat a girl right?" He threw in a slight chuckle for good measure. And to calm his nerves.

Dean relaxed some, a brief smirk on his lips as he settled in on the small bed. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Something like that."

"I mean, you taught me everything else." Sam murmured. 

"So it's only my brotherly duty to make sure you know how to please a girl." He kept his voice low and soft, not wanting to break whatever little spell had settled over them. His lips quirked into a little smirk.

"And how would you go about doing that?" Sam really wasn't thinking with his upstairs brain as he spoke. And Dean could tell. Because he wasn't thinking clearly either.

"You wanna know what I'd do?" He smirked. "How I'd split your girlfriend open on my cock?"

Sam shuddered. Dean had always spoken obscenely but Christ, that might take the cake. "Keep talking like that and she won't need your cock."

Dean's smirk widened. "Oh she will.  
She'll be soaking before I even touch her, Sammy."

Sam wanted to learn how to do that. He wanted to know how Dean always managed to do that, make people like that. Make Sam like that. Make him so weak at the knees. "How?"

Dean licked his lips. "You gotta tease her, Sam. It's a game. You can't just give her what she wants right away. Otherwise it's no fun. That's why it's called fore _play_."

Sam nodded slowly. Take it slow. Yeah he could do that. Though he never thought Dean would be suggesting that. "So go slow?"

Dean snorted. "Not your definition of slow. Just keep it teasing until neither of you can take it anymore."

Sam nodded, making little mental notes. And then his brain started making mental notes of other things. Like the constellations his brother's freckles might form. "And then what?" But he wasn't exactly paying attention anymore.

He was, however, imagining Dean doing all these things he was describing.

"I'll lick her open nice and slow, three fingers deep, have her dripping, begging for it."

He could perfectly visualize Dean with his head between a faceless girls thighs, could see him licking her open, making her tremble with every flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers.

He didn't know why the image made his jeans even tighter. Why imagining his brother bringing a girl over the edge got him so turned on.

Dean was smirking, whispering filth to Sam. It was adorable how flustered he was. Adorable how he mirrored Dean when he licked his lips. Utterly adorable until Sam looked up and met his gaze, eyes flicking to his lips as Dean licked his bottom lip.

And then his eyes met Dean's and that wasn't adorable. That was heat, that was want, that was _the look_. The look Mandy gave Sam. The look so many girls had given Dean. It was a good teaching moment, sure, but that would be admitting he wanted to kiss Sam. And he didn't. Did he? 

Because now his little brother was giving him the same look. And they were already mere inches apart, just a tilt of the head and--

"You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend." A voice definitely belonging to a girl sounded from the doorway. And it sounded equal parts amused and betrayed.

Sam thankfully pulled back, sitting up quickly, pillow cover in this lap very effectively. Dean knew the look on his face. It was the one Sam had when Dean accidentally walked in on him jerkin' one.

Sam's sudden movement effectively broke the trance the brothers had fallen into. Dean slowly sat up, pulling the frozen peas behind his back and out of Mandy's view. He didn't want to look weak in front of Sam's new girlfriend. 

"Boyfriend? What? No, he's my brother. Dean." Sam said before furrowing his brows. "Wait, how'd you get in?"

"Door was unlocked. No one answered when I knocked but I saw the car. I just figured..." She gave a little shrug, eyes finally taking Dean in.

And Dean sure was looking her over as well. So this was Mandy, Sam's little cheerleader-bookworm-girlfriend. Who had very good taste in music. With a ghost sister who liked to cock block.

_Seems to run in the family._

And as that thought flittered through his head, barely there, he caught it and he buried it deep down. Way way down. Down far enough to _never speak of ever again,_ way down.

Dean made sure to discreetly hide his bulge from either's view. Because there was no cock to be blocked here. Not at all. Nope. 

Maybe if Dean kept telling himself that he might start to believe it. That there _wasn't_ something going on between him and his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics are from _Campfire_ by Satelitte Stories.


End file.
